THE 


MISCELLANEOUS  WRITINGS 


OF 


GEORGE  C  HARDING 


INDIANAPOLIS : 

CARLON  &   HOLLENBECK,   PRINTERS   AND   BINDERS. 

1882. 


COPYRIGHT,  1882, 
BY  JULIA  C.  HAKDING. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAGE, 

PREFACE,         .        .  ' .        1 

BRIEF  SKETCH  OF  His  LIFE,       .        .        .        .  3 

PENCIL  NOTES  OF  A  BRIEF  TRIP  TO  MEXICO.  14 

(In  ten  chapters.) 

BIG  SAM,        .         .         .         .        .         .         .         .         .  123 

JIM  BALES'  DOG  FIGHT,      .         .         .         .  .  -   .         . '  •  .130 

MAN,  CONSIDERED  AS  A  CANDLE, 139 

THE  FEMALE  SPIDER,        .         .         ...         .         .  .      144 

A  TRIBUTE  TO  A  DAUGHTER,          .         .         .         .  v       .  148 

BALES,  HIMSELF,        .       .         .         .         .         .         .  .      152 

MOON-STRUCK,        ...         .                   ...  160 

DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN,     .         .         .         .  .      166 

DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  LOUISIANA,     .         .     '    .         .         .  177 

SHIFTING  SCENES  FROM  THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  LATE  WAR,  190 
( In  nineteen  chapters.) 

SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS,     .        .        .        .        .        .  338 


M211163 


PREFACE. 


AFTER  the  death  of  Mr.  Harding,  many  of  his  friends  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  have  some  memorial  of  him — something  that 
would  embalm  the  flashes  of  his  humor,  the  nimble  wit,  the 
delicate  and  covert  satire  of  one  who,  for  years,  had  worked 
while  others  slept,  until  overtaken  by  that  sleep  which  knows 
no  awakening  here.  After  many  doubts  and  much  hesitation, 
it  was  decided  to  publish  his  army  and  Mexican  letters,  and  se 
lections  from  such  of  his  miscellaneous  writings  as  were  most 
characteristic  of  him,  and  would  best  give  an  idea  of  the  pe 
culiar  style  and  fervor  of  his  genius.  His  army  comrades  were 
especially  desirous  that  his  letters,  which  contained  the  only  re 
ally  authentic  account  of  the  stormy  events  in  which  they  had 
taken  so  active  a  part,  should  be  published,  that  justice  might 
be  done  to  their  valor,  patriotism  and  endurance.  A  large 
part  of  this  volume  is,  therefore,  devoted  to  this  subject.  His 
Mexican  Notes  were  widely  read  and  appreciated,  and  are  herein 
published  in  response  to  many  requests.  The  bulk  of  his  mis 
cellaneous  writings  was  found  to  be  so  great  as  not  to  be  compres 
sible  within  the  limits  thus  left  for  it,  or,  indeed,  within  a  single 
volume,  and  it  was,  therefore,  determined  to  give  only  some  of 
the  more  striking. 

Many  knew  him  only  as  a  framer  of  paragraphs,  as  a  writer 


2  PREFACE. 

of  well  rounded  sentences,  which  "shot  at  folly  as  it  flew,"  or 
held  a  sting  for  those  who  conceived  and  propagated  wrong. 
These,  in  their  very  nature,  were  ephemeral,  but  it  was  thought 
best  to  preserve  a  certain  portion,  that  all  might  be  satisfied. 
To  this  labor  of  love  has  been  added  a  conscientious  endeavor 
to  do  that  alone,  which  he,  had  he  been  living,  himself  might 
have  approved.  J.  C.  H. 


BRIEF  SKETCH  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


GEORGE  CANADY  HARDING  was  born  near  Knox- 
ville,  Tennessee,  August  26,  1829.  His  father, 
Jacob  Harding,  was  a  man  of  strong  mental  and 
physical  characteristics,  which  the  son  inherited. 
His  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Love  F. 
Nelson,  was  the  daughter  of  Hon.  John  R.  Nel 
son,  a  lawyer  of  high  reputation  in  that  region. 
She  was  a  woman  of  small  stature,  but  great  force 
of  character.  George  was  the  second  child  in  a 
family  of  thirteen.  He  was  a  quiet,  silent  boy, 
given  to  long  solitary  rambles,  and  during  his 
childhood  in  Tennessee,  and  his  early  youth  in 
Illinois,  spent  much  of  his  time  in  the  woods. 
He  was  familiar  with  the  animate  and  inanimate 
things  of  nature,  the  fauna  and  flora  of  that  section 
of  country,  and  knew  each  individual  of  them,  not 
indeed,  by  the  names  given  them  in  the  books,  but 
by  their  more  homely  and  familiar  appellations. 
He  knew  where  the  flowers  first  bloomed  and  the 
berries  first  ripened.  He  knew  the  habits  and 
nesting  places  of  the  birds,  the  haunts  and  pecu 
liarities  of  the  animals,  and  even  of  the  insects  of 
the  region  in  which  his  rambles  extended.  He 
became  adept  in  woodcraft,  and  the  use  of  the 


4  A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE. 

rifle.  He  was  entirely  fearless,  then  and  ever 
after,  whether  his  antagonist  were  beast  or  man, 
or  whatever  his  own  weapon.  His  early  habits 
largely  influenced  his  after  life,  and  tended  to 
make  him  alert  and  wary,  yet  aggressive.  When 
he  decided  to  strike  he  lost  no  time  about  it.  The 
blow  was  swift  and  terrible,  neither  the  position, 
equipment  nor  strength  of  his  antagonist  making 
the  least  difference  with  him.  He  learned  discre 
tion  in  his  later  years,  but  his  first  impulse  always 
was  to  spring  upon  what  he  conceived  to  be  a 
wrong  or  an  abuse,  and  throttle  it  then  and  there. 
George  had  not  reached  his  teens  when  his  parents 
removed  to  Paris,  Illinois.  His  wild  ways  and 
swarthy  complexion  gave  him  the  sobriquet  of 
"The  Cherokee,"  and  soon  after  his  arrival  at 
Paris  he  was  compelled  to  thrash  the  entire  male 
portion  of  the  school  to  which  he  was  sent,  in 
order  to  vindicate  his  Anglo-Saxon  pedigree. 
This  he  did  so  thoroughly  that  ever  thereafter  in 
"choosing  sides"  for  any  physical  encounter  the 
side  that  secured  "The  Cherokee"  considered 
victory  already  in  its  grasp.  His  schooling,  how 
ever,  was  limited,  and  he  lost  much  of  the  good  he 
might  have  secured,  by  his  impatience  of  restraint 
and  contempt  for  the  plodding  methods  of  his 
teachers.  His  intuitions  were  quick  and  he  seem 
ed  to  know  more  by  instinct  than  he  learned  in  the 
books,  and  had  ample  time  on  his  hands  to  devise 
and  execute  mischief.  He  was,  moreover,  ambi 
tious  to  assist  his  father,  and  having  soon  learned 
all  the  school  was  likely  to  teach  him,  he  turned 


A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE.  5 

his  attention  to  the  serious  business  of  getting  a 
living.  Though  only  fourteen  years  of  age,  he 
was  large  and  strong,  and  accepted  the  best  posi 
tions  that  offered,  laboring  in  the  harvest  field,  the 
brick  yard,  or  wherever  he  could  obtain  work. 
He  soon  tired  of  this,  and  abruptly  left  home,  with 
a  neighbor  lad,  to  make  his  fortune.  He  walked 
all  the  way  to  St.  Louis,  but  being  out  of  money 
and  finding  the  labor  market  greatly  overstocked, 
he  was  easily  persuaded  to  return  home  with  a 
neighbor,  who  happened  to  find  him  in  the  city 
penniless  and  disheartened.  Soon  after  his  return 
Judge  Conrad,  of  Terre  Haute,  offered  to  take 
him  into  the  printing  office  where  the  Courier  was 
published,  and  make  a  printer  of  him.  To  one  of 
young  Harding's  genius,  this  settled  his  career. 
From  setting  type  to  writing  for  the  paper  was  an 
easy  and  natural  transition,  and  his  articles  always 
secured  attention  if  they  did  not  carry  conviction. 
Isaac  M.  Brown,  the  veteran  printer  and  editor, 
taught  him  the  art  of  printing  and  encouraged  him 
to  write.  After  he  had  completed  his  trade,  his 
father  abandoned  the  law  and  started  the  Prairie 
Beacon,  at  Paris,  and  George  left  Terre  Haute 
to  assist  in  the  enterprise,  and  here  his  literary 
career  began  in  earnest.  Beside  writing  for  the 
Beacon,  he  contributed  to  the  Cincinnati  "  Great 
West,  "  and  other  publications  of  that  sort.  His 
writings  then  created  quite  a  sensation  by  their 
vigorous  and  incisive  style  and  strong  English. 
Soon  after  this  the  Mexican  war  broke  out ;  he  de 
termined  to  enlist,  but  failed  to  get  accepted.  He 


O  A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE. 

then  went  to  New  Orleans  on  a  flat  boat,  still  de 
termined  to  enlist,  but  returned  to  St.  Louis  with 
out  accomplishing  his  purpose.  Here,  however, 
his  desire  was  realized,  and  he  enlisted  in  the  Sec 
ond  Dragoons,  but  fell  sick  at  Jefferson  barracks, 
and  after  lying  at  death's  door  for  some  weeks,  was 
discharged.  His  next  experience  in  editorial  life 
was  as  editor  and  half  proprietor  of  the  Courier, 
at  Charleston,  Illinois,  in  which  he  espoused  the 
cause  of  Republicanism  in  the  infancy  of  that 
party,  and  did  great  service  in  the  exciting  cam 
paign  of  1856.  This  paper  was  the  first  to  suggest 
the  name  of  Fremont  for  the  presidency.  After 
the  campaign  he  withdrew  from  the  Courier  and 
started  the  Ledger,  which  attained  a  large  circula 
tion  at  once,  but  owing  to  domestic  trouble,  Mr. 
Harding  soon  disposed  of  it  and  went  to  Cincin 
nati,  where  he  was  engaged  for  some  months  on 
the  Commercial.  His  love  for  change  and  excite 
ment,  however,  soon  took  him  South,  and  he  next 
appeared  as  associate  editor  of  the  Houston  (Texas) 
Telegraph,  tri-weekly.  This  was  just  before  the 
outbreak  of  the  civil  war.  Feeling  that  a  conflict 
was  inevitable,  and  desiring  to  be  on  the  right 
side,  he  resigned  his  charge,  and  came  North  just 
before  the  storm  broke.  He  joined  the  Twenty- 
first  Indiana  regiment  (First  Heavy  Artillery),  Col. 
James  W.  McMillan,  and  went  with  it  to  Baltimore. 
His  letters  to  the  Cincinnati  Commercial  attracted 
much  attention,  and  were  largely  instrumental  in 
having  the  regiment,  possessing  so  able  a  corres 
pondent,  sent  to  the  Gulf  Department.  His  army 


A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE.  7 

letters,  which  are  printed  in  this  volume,  with  very 
slight  abridgment,  attracted  great  attention,  and 
furnished  much  valuable  data  for  a  history  of  the 
war  in  that  quarter.  He  was  promoted  from  the 
ranks  to  be  Second  Lieutenant,  but  soon  after  re 
signed,  and  in  1864  took  service  on  the  New  Or 
leans  Times.  This  lasted,  however,  but  six  months, 
and  he  again  came  North,  and  after  a  short  service 
on  the  Cincinnati  Commercial,  came  to  Indianapo 
lis,  and  entered  upon  his  newspaper  career  here, 
which,  with  one  or  two  brief  interruptions,  when  he 
was  employed  upon  papers  in  Louisville  and  St. 
Louis,  continued  till  his  death — a  career  which 
though  not  uniformly  successful  in  a  pecuniary  point 
of  view,  made  him  a  name  and  secured  him  a  posi 
tion  of  decided  eminence  in  the  newspaper  world. 
He  was  employed  at  different  times 'and  in  various 
capacities,  upon  the  Daily  Journal,  the  Daily  Her 
ald,  (as  the  Sentinel  was  then  called)  on  the  Senti 
nel  under  the  Devlin  and  Bright  administrations, 
and  again  on  the  Morning  and  Evening  Journal. 
He  started,  first  the  Saturday  Evening  Mirror,  in 
company  with  Marshall  G.  Henry,  which  was  af 
terwards  turned  into  a  daily,  and  was  finally  sold 
to  the  News.  The  Mirror  made  its  mark  while  it 
lived,  but  ambition  to  become  a  great  daily  killed 
it.  His  next  venture  was  the  Saturday  Herald, 
which  he  made  a  great  success,  but  internal  dis 
sensions,  uncongenial  relations  with  his  associates, 
and  failing  health,  made  the  position  uncomforta 
ble,  and  he  finally  sold  his  interest  in  the  paper 
and  went  to  Minnesota,  hoping  that  a  cessation 


A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE. 

from  stirring  duties,  and  rest  in  a  salubrious  cli 
mate,  would  restore  his  wonted  vigor.  His  hope 
was  realized,  but  with  returning  health,  the  dull 
routine  of  a  country  town  became  irksome,  and  he 
longed  to  re-enter  active  life.  With  this  object  in 
view,  he  returned  to  Indianapolis,  and  in  company 
with  Mr.  Charles  Dennis,  established  the  Saturday 
Review.  The  paper  at  once  attained  remarkable 
popularity  and  a  large  circulation.  Old  friends 
rallied  to  his  support,  and  new  ones  were  made 
with  every  issue.  It  was  in  the  full  tide  of  success, 
and  when  his  prospects  never  looked  brighter, 
that  an  accident,  slight  in  itself  but  fatal  in  its  re 
sults,  ended  his  career.  An  iron  grating  in  a  side 
walk  raised  from  below  just  as  he  was  about  to 
step  upon  it  to  make  way  for  some  ladies  to  pass, 
struck  him  on  the  leg,  making  a  slight  but  painful 
wound.  He  paid  little  attention  to  it  at  first,  but 
in  a  few  days  he  was  compelled  to  take  his  bed. 
His  wound  rapidly  grew  worse  ;  blood  poisoning 
supervened,  and  he  died  in  the  maturity  of  his- 
powers  and  at  the  height  of  his  usefulness,  on  May 
8,  1881. 

Mr.  Harding's  ability  as  a  newspaper  writer  was 
of  a  high  order.  He  used  sturdy  English  in  a  style 
noted  more  for  strength  than  elegance,  though 
none  could  round  a  period  with  more  grace.  As 
a  paragrapher  he  had  few  superiors.  He  had  a 
rugged,  incisive  way  of  putting  things  that  enabled 
him  to  throw  into  a  single  terse  sentence  more 
than  the  force  of  a  labored  editorial.  He  under 
stood  to  a  nicety  the  force  of  reiteration,  and  week 


A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE.  9 

after  week  would  make  the  same  epigrammatic 
statement,  or  ask  the  same  exasperating  question 
in  the  same  exasperating  way,  until  the  anticipa 
tion  of  its  repetition  would  become  unbearable,  and 
quarter  would  be  sued  for  on  any  terms.  He  was 
master  of  the  art  of  retraction,  but  was  seldom 
called  upon  to  practice  it  more  than  once  on  the 
same  individual,  the  wrong-doer  generally  prefer 
ring  to  take  his  punishment  in  silence,  rather  than 
risk  the  "correction"  he  was  likely  to  get  if  he 
persisted  in  demanding  it.  He  cared  little  for 
consistency,  and  never  let  his  record  in  any  case 
stand  in  the  way  of  advocating  what  he  at  the  time 
believed  to  be  right,  or  denouncing  what  he  deem 
ed  to  be  wrong.  He  did  not  deal  in  fine  phrases, 
or  say  pretty  things.  His  character  was  full  of  real 
or  apparent  contradictions.  While  he  was  fearless 
to  the  verge  of  recklessness,  he  was  very  gentle 
to  his  friends,  and  keenly  sensitive  to  their  opin 
ions,  as  well  as  to  the  opinion  of  the  public.  The 
savage  blows  he  dealt  were  aimed  at  abuses,  and 
only  incidentally  at  individuals.  Like  all  strong 
characters,  he  was  a  good  hater,  but  it  was  the 
wrong  and  not  the  wrong-doer  he  hated.  He  had 
no  hypocrisy  in  his  nature,  and  there  was  no  diffi 
culty  in  discovering  his  position  on  any  question. 
He  was  naturally  of  a  trusting  disposition,  but  bit 
ter  contact  with  the  world  made  him  suspicious  of 
men.  To  the  opposite  sex  he  was  gallant  and 
courteous,  and  held  all  women  to  be  sincere  and 
honest  until  proved  to  the  contrary.  What  he  had 
of  egotism  was  of  the  grand  kind  that  was  satis- 


IO  A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE. 

fied  with  itself,  and  he  did  not  intrude  it  upon 
others.  His  hatred  of  sham  and  pretense  some 
times  made  him  intolerant,  and  his  restiveness 
under  restraint  sometimes  carried  him  beyond  the 
lines  of  strict  decorum.  Those  who  knew  him 
only  by  his  writings,  invariably  expressed  aston 
ishment  on  becoming  acquainted  with  him,  at  the 
gentleness  of  his  nature.  He  did  not  seem  to  real 
ize  the  tremendous  force  with  which  he  dealt  a 
blow,  and  would  meet  his  writhing  victim  with 
a  suavity  that  was  more  exasperating  than  the 
attack.  Many  whose  introduction  to  him  was 
a  cruel  thrust  of  his  blade,  if  they  came  to  demand 
an  apology,  didn't  get  it,  but  with  such  a  mild 
mannered  grace  that  they  became  his  fast  friends. 
In  the  strength  of  his  earlier  years  Mr.  Har 
ding  seemed  perfectly  tireless,  and  would  pursue  a 
wrong  or  an  adversary  with  a  persistence  border 
ing  on  ferocity.  In  those  years  his  attitude  was 
that  of  a  tiger  ready  for  a  spring.  Time  and  sad 
experience  greatly  softened  his  nature,  and  while 
he  still  remained  a  dangerous  foe,  he  was  less 
aggressive  and  slower  to  anger.  He  no  longer 
fought  for  the  mere  love  of  it,  but  wrote  and  acted 
from  a  sense  of  responsibility  resting  upon  him  as 
a  public  journalist.  His  last  years  were  his  best, 
and  there  was  more  of  conscience,  dignity,  and  a 
just  appreciation  of  accountability  for  the  use  of  his 
talents  than  had  been  manifested  in  previous  years. 
His  heart  and  pen  were  enlisted  on  the  side  of  the 
saving  forces  of  society,  and  while  he  still  hated 
cant  and  hypocrisy  with  all  the  strength  of  his 


A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE.  II 

nature,  he  was  more  tolerant  of  honest  difference 
of  opinion.  He  was  greatly  respected  by  the 
country  press,  and  he  did  much  to  infuse  into  it 
a  manly  spirit  of  emulation,  if  also  of  antagonism, 
by  example  as  well  as  by  inducing  a  wholesome 
fear  of  castigation.  His  capacity  for  work  was 
great,  and  all  that  he  heard  or  read  was  retained 
in  such  available  shape  as  to  be  ready  for  use  on 
the  instant.  It  is  told  of  him,  while  he  was  an 
attache  of  the  New  Orleans  Times,  that  late  one 
night  when  the  forms  were  ready  for  press,  and 
his  associates,  as  well  as  the  printers,  had  gone 
home,  he  heard  of  a  vessel  just  arrived  from  Cuba 
with  papers  containing  an  account  of  a  rebellion 
in  progress  on  the  island.  These  papers  were 
printed  in  Spanish,  and  he  knew  little  or  nothing  of 
the  language.  No  translator  was  to  be  had  at  that 
hour  of  the  night,  but  he  secured  the  papers, 
hunted  up  an  Anglo-Spanish  dictionary  some 
where,  ordered  the  newspaper  forms  to  be  held 
•open  for  an  hour,  and  in  that  short  space  of  time 
.succeeded  in  translating  and  putting  in  type  him 
self,  a  very  accurate  and  readable  account  of  the 
affair,  the  Times  being  the  only  paper  that  had 
any  allusion  to  it  next  morning. 

Mr.  Harding  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife 
was  Miss  Jennie  Reeves,  of  Oberlin,  Ohio,  to 
-whom  he  was  married  in  1856,  and  by  whom  he 
'had  two  children,  both  now  dead.  This  marriage 
was  very  unfortunate  and  unhappy,  and  ended  in 
divorce.  His  only  daughter,  Flora,  inherited  much 
of  her  father's  genius,  and  for  a  time  assisted  him 


12  A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    HIS    LIFE. 

in  his  work.  Her  early  death,  and  the  circum 
stances  surrounding  it,  form  one  of  the  saddest 
pictures  in  his  life  ;  and  his  eulogy  of  her,  and  his 
scathing  denunciation  of  her  betrayer,  was  at. 
once  the  strongest  and  most  pathetic  of  his  writ 
ings.  His  second  marriage  was  to  Miss  Julia  C. 
Bannister,  and  took  place  in  Cincinnati,  in  July, 
1 86 1 .  Five  sons  were  born  of  this  union,  the  eldest 
of  whom  is  now  eighteen  years  of  age.  They  bear 
a  strong  family  resemblance  to  their  father,  and  it 
is  believed  inherit  his  genius  in  a  great  degree. 

Mr.  Harding  was  domestic  in  his  tastes,  and 
needed  the  quiet  pleasures  of  home,  though  his- 
busy  and  eventful  life  gave  him  little  opportunity 
to  enjoy  them.  While  he  was  strong  in  his  affec 
tions,  he  was  not  demonstrative,  reticence  being 
one  of  the  leading  traits  in  his  character.  In  per 
sonal  appearance  he  was  always  striking.  Of 
large  physical  dimensions,  and  erect  bearing,  he 
was  a  man  to  attract  attention.  His  complexion 
was  dark  and  his  hair  jet  black.  His  eyes  were 
dark  and  very  expressive,  lighting  up  in  the  most 
kindly  and  captivating  manner,  or  burning  like 
fire 'brands  in  anger.  His  voice  was  low  and  pleas 
ing.  In  his  later  years,  when  his  hair  and  mus 
tache  became  gray,  the  lines  of  his  features  more 
sharply  defined,  and  the  contour  of  his  grand  head 
was  more  plainly  visible,  he  was  a  man  to  be  singled 
out  in  a  crowd  for  distinguished  appearance. 

He  had  many  enemies  but  more  friends.  He 
was  not  always  right,  but  a  summing  up  of  his 
work  will  show  a  large  balance  on  the  right  side. 


PENCIL    NOTES 


BRIEF  TRIP  TO  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  steamer  was  several  days  behind  her  regu 
lar  time  of  sailing.  Some  passengers  had  been 
waiting  and  swearing  for  ten  days  at  the  hotels. 
It  was  finally  noised  about  that  the  chief  engineer 
was  putting  in  a  new  "cross  head,"  and  it  was 
this  which  was  detaining  the  steamer.  None  of  us 
had  the  slightest  idea  what  a  cross  head  was,  but 
it  was  learnedly  discussed,  and  various  wise 
.opinions  as  to  the  danger  of  putting  to  sea  with 
a  worm-eaten  cross  head  indulged.  Every  day 
some  new  arrival  would  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
steamer  landing  near  Jackson  Square,  seek  an  in 
terview  with  the  engineer,  and  ask  as  a  particular 
favor  to  be  shown  the  new  cross  head,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  enabled  to  judge,  by  ocular  observa 
tion,  as  to  its  capacity  for  resisting  the  heavy  chop 


14  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

seas  of  the  gulf.     Poor  Miller's  life  was  made  a 
burden  to  frim. 

The  captain,  the  purser,  the  first  and  second  of 
ficer,  the  steward,  the  agent  and  the  agent's  clerks 
and  errand  boys,  who  had  in  -turn  all  been  bedev 
iled  to  the  very  verge  of  distraction  by  the  questions 
and  grumblings  of  delayed  passengers,  found  in 
Miller's  cross  head  a  capacious  scape-goat,  and 
they  took  a  diabolical  pleasure  in.  referring  all 
grievances  to  'him.  Mr.  Miller  is  a  patient,  sci 
entific,  long-suffering  gentleman.  While  in  the 
blockade-running  service  during  the  late  war,  ply 
ing  between  Nassau  and  Charleston,  he  invented  a 
smoke-burner,  which  enabled  the  blockade-runners 
to  use  soft  coal,  and  burn  up  the  long  trail  which 
would  otherwise  have  enabled  our  cruisers  to  hunt 
them  down.  He  is  the  only  man  who  ever  success 
fully  crossed  the  gulf  in  the  tempestuous  month  of 
March  with  a  wooden  boiler.  He  speaks  Spanish 
like  oil,  and  is  in  many  respects  a  valuable  acqui 
sition  to  our  merchant  marine  ;  but  that  cross  head 
was  too  much  for  him.  He  stood  it  for  five  days 
and  then  disappeared,  and  was  seen  no  more  until 
the  gangway  was  hoisted  in  previous  to  the  ship's 
sailing.  On  arrival  at  Tampico  he  was  still  further 
infuriated  by  the  pirate  who  commanded  the  lighter 
La  Fortuna,  calling  out  to  him  as  soon  as  he  got 
within  hail,  "Have  you  got  that  cross  head  all 
right?"  The  fact  that  it  was  he  who  was  keeping 
the  ship  back  with  his  new-fangled  cross  head,  had 
been  telegraphed  ahead  by  way  of  Matamoras. 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  15 

New  Orleans  is  pretty  much  as  it  used  to  be.  It 
is  not  quite  so  distinctive  as  before  the  war,  and 
much  more  so  than  before  the  collapse  of  the  car 
pet-bag  system  of  organized  robbery.  Signs  of 
returning  prosperity  are  apparent.  There  are  also 
innovations.  The  fashionable  drinking  and  loaf 
ing  has  moved  further  down  (or  up)  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  and  the  square 
which  includes  the  St.  Charles  Theater,  "Mur 
phy's,"  The  "Phoenix,"  and  other  historic  places, 
no  longer  presents  the  gay  appearance  it  did 
twenty  years  ago.  Indeed,  it  begins  to  look 
shabby,  if  not  positively  low.  But  New  Orleans 
still  presents  the  same  show  of  handsome  men  and 
ugly  women  ;  the  same  big  oysters,  big  tumblers 
and  frequent  drinks  ;  the  same  free-and-easy  dis 
regard  of  fashion  plates  in  masculine  dress  ;  the 
same  singing,  good-humored  waves  of  people  who 
ebb  and  flow  through  the  portals  of  the  drinking 
saloons,  with  no  other  apparent  mission  in  life  save 
eating  and  drinking  and  smoking.  The  size  of 
the  glasses  is  a  marvel  to  a  Northern  man.  It 
makes  him  feel  as  if  he  were  taking  a  drink  out  of 
a  churn,  and  until  he  acquires  a  little  experience 
he  is  apt  to  overgauge  his  nips.  Your  fiery  South 
ron  scorns  anything  that  looks  like  restriction  in 
his  social  horns,  and  as  an  indignant  reaction 
against  the  small,  thin  glasses  of  the  northern 
drinking  house,  has  secured  a  vessel  which  ad 
mits  of  a  horn  that  would  impoverish  a  feeble  estab 
lishment.  Everybody  drinks,  and  drinks  early 
and  often. 


1 6  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

The  "  lunches  "  at  the  fashionable  houses  which 
throng  St.  Charles  street  are  in  fact  elaborate  meals, 
with  soups,  and  roasts,  and  salads  that  would  do 
honor  to  the  chef  de  cuisine  of  a  Paris  restaurant, and 
clean  plates  and  knives  and  forks  for  each  course. 
I  try  in  vain  to  ascertain  upon  what  solid  basis  all 
this  eating  and  drinking  rests.  The  Texas  trade 
and  the  Red  river  trade  have  gone  glimmering. 

Of  manufacturing  there  seems  to  be  little  or 
nothing.  I  strolled  around  to  the  Cotton  Ex 
change,  and  detected  a  half  hundred  rosy-faced  and 
round-bellied  gentlemen  apparently  engaged  in 
talking  business,  but  their  business  was  so  fre 
quently  interrupted  with  adjournments  to  "  Haw- 
kins'  "  that  it  was  hard  to  determine  whether  busi 
ness  or  brandy  predominated.  I  wandered  into 
legislative  halls  in  the  old  St.  Louis  Hotel,  and  lis 
tened  for  a  brief  half  hour  to  the  monotonous  drone 
of  legislation,  which  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day 
and  forever  in  all  localities.  There  were  the  same 
pert  clerks,  with  an  insufferable  air  of  knowing 
things,  and  unmistakable  indications  of  a  propensity 
to  lobby;  the  same  disposition  on  the  part  of  the 
members  to  loll  and  cock  up  their  feet ;  in  short, 
the  same  characteristics  which  sweeten  the  halls  of 
legislation  in  our  own  beloved  Indiana.  The  col 
ored  brother  is  not  quite  so  numerous  as  he  used 
to  be,  but  still  is  an  important  factor  in  Louisiana 
statesmanship.  It  amused  me  to  see  how  quickly 
the  colored  members  had  caught  up  the  little  tricks 
and  subterfuges  of  the  average  lawmaker,  by 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  17 

which    he    impresses    the  feeble-minded  spectator 
with  an  idea  of  his  eternal  vigilance. 

For  instance,  the  clerk  was  reading  some  stupid 
resolution    touching    some    trifling   matter    about 
which  nobody  knew  anything — about  which  nobody 
cared    anything.      A    colored    member,  who    had 
been    leaning  back    in    his    chair  looking   at  the 
ceiling   through    half-closed    eyelids,    and    lazily 
blowing     smoke-wreaths     from    a    half-consumed 
cigar,  pricks  up  his  ears  as  the  drone  of  the  read 
ing  clerk's  voice  dies  away,  and  rising  asks  for  the 
reading  of  the  paper  again,  as  he  is  not  quite  sure 
that  he  has  caught  its  exact  meaning.     The  clerk 
drones  through   the  dreary  document  again,  tele 
scoping  the  words  in  a  manner  even  more  unintelli 
gible  than  before,  but  the  colored  member  is  satis 
fied,  and  relapses  into  his  dreamy  study  of  the  ceil 
ing   and   smoke-rings   again.     He   has  vindicated 
his  character  as  the  Barking  Watch-Dog  of  Greno- 
uille   parish.     They  can't  secrete  anything  to  the 
detriment  of  his  constituents  in  the  bowels  of  an  ap 
parently  harmless  resolution  without  his  digging  it 
out,  you  bet.     I  had  seen  the  same  thing  done  so 
often  in  the  riotous  halls  of  our  own  dear  defunct 
State  House,  that  I  felt  like  embracing  the  Watch- 
Dog.     Lovely  woman  seems  to  be  emerging  from 
her  conservative  chrysalis  in  New  Orleans — a  fact 
due   to  the  contamination  of  northern  influences. 
Twenty-five  years   ago  the    intensely   respectable 
Creole  element  considered  it  equivalent  to  a  loss  of 
reputation  for  a  woman  to  be  seen  upon  the  streets 
without  an  escort,  even  at  mid-day.     Now  Canal 
2 


1 8  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

street  is  constantly  thronged  with  gay  butterflies  of 
fashion,  and  even  the  Creole  girl,  with  her  fuller's- 
earth  complexion  and  her  sombre  dress,  is  allowed 
to  go  out  without  a  duenna  or  sheep-dog.  (A 
Creole  is  not  a  person  of  mixed  blood,  O,  obstinate 
reader !  but  a  native  of  Louisiana,  born  of  foreign 
parentage).  Loafing  about  the  St.  Charles  bar 
room,  I  see  the  same  faces  and  forms  which  orna 
mented  the  locality  twenty-seven  years  ago — men 
with  long  hair,  greasy  complexions,  red  noses,  and 
emitting  that  unmistakable  aura  which  marks  the 
genteel  Southern  loafer.  Certainly  they  are  not 
the  same  men.  The  men  I  knew  then  have  long 
since  died  of  drink  and  smoke,  but  the  type  has 
been  perpetuated.  In  other  quarters  I  find  repre 
sentatives  of  a  still  lower  type  of  loaferclom,  whose 
appearance  is  very  familiar.  I  could  almost  swear 
that  that  forlorn  loafer  leaning  against  the  lamp 
post  at  the  corner  of  Commercial  Place  and  St. 
Charles  street,  with  the  gray-bleached  hat,  dirty 
ruffled  shirt,  and  general  air  of  limp  slouchiness,  is 
Johnny  Pie,  but  I  know  that  Johnny  died  of  yellow 
fever  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  This  fellow  is 
lying  in  ambush  for  a  drink,  just  as  Johnny  used 
to,  and  the  family  resemblance  is  strong.  And 
that  rotund,  seedy  little  fellow  who  walks  with  a 
jaunty  assumption  of  a  business  air,  and  despite  his 
shabbiness  is  self-assertive  to  the  extent  of  com 
manding  a  degree  of  respect  from  the  bar-keeper,, 
who  already  has  an  antique  score  of  great  length 
against  him,  is  the  exact  counterpart  of  Banana 
Dick,  who  went  out  with  the  liberating  army  of 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  19 

Lopez,  and   had  his  cervical  vertebras   dislocated 
by  a  twist  of  the  Spanish  garrote. 

The  cross-head  is  at  last  in  ;  Miller  and  the  ship's 
cat  come  aboard  from  their  places  of  concealment ; 
the  passengers  and  their  baggage  are  taken  in  ;  the 
gun  fires,  and  the  City  of  Mexico,  swinging  out 
into  the  stream,  points  for  the  Southwest  Pass,  un 
der  a  full  head  of  steam.  As  she  makes  her  way 
down  the  river  the  passengers  scrape  acquaint 
ance.  Mr.  Arnold  Winholt,  an  English  gentle 
man  who  has  seen  the  great  wall  of  China,  and 
nearly  everything  else  on  the  habitable  globe  that 
is  worth  seeing,  having  stowed  away  his  cork  hat, 
remembers  having  sat  at  the  same  table  with  us  at 
the  St.  Charles,  and  having  by  the  attrition  of 
travel  worn  away  the  Englishman's  insular  preju 
dices,  falls  an  easy  prey  to  our  advances.  He 
apologizes  for  a  slight  indistinctness  of  enunciation 
on  account  of  a  dental  operation  which  Dr.  West 
had  performed  upon  one  of  his  front  teeth.  The 
tooth  had  been  imperfectly  "stopped"  by  an  En 
glish  bungler.  Dr.  West  had  persuaded  him  to 
have  it  extracted,  properly  filled  and  replanted. 
He  was  incredulous.  The  doctor  piled  Pelion  upon 
Ossa  in  the  way  of  authority,  and  at  last  he  con 
sented.  The  operation  had  been  performed  sev 
eral  days  previous,  and  the  doctor  had  fastened 
the  tooth  in  its  place  with  an  apparatus  which  inter 
fered  with  his  talking.  Everything  seemed — he 
said  it  "in  all  humility,"  for  he  was  a  little  super 
stitious  about  premature  boasting — to  be  going  on 
well,  and  he  had  faith  that  the  replanted  tooth 


2O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

would  take  firm  root.  American  dentists,  he  said, 
are  confessedly  the  best  dentists  in  the  world,  and 
if  Dr.  West  only  saved  his  tooth  he  would  consider 
the  ten  pounds  invested  in  the  experiment  as  well 
spent.  The  acquaintance  thus  made  with  this 
accomplished  English  gentleman,  who  became  our 
companion  through  Mexico,  proved  invaluable  to 
us  in  the  way  of  instruction  a-nd  amusement.  On 
the  steamer  we  also  found  Dr.  Harris,  an  Ameri 
can  dentist,  who  located  in  the  City  of  Mexico 
twenty-seven  years  ago,  and  his  accomplished 
daughter  Anna,  the  two  being  on  their  return  from 
a  visit  to  the  States.  We  were  indebted  to  them 
for  many  kind  offices. 

Other  people  have  been  to  sea  and  told  about  it. 
All  the  glowing  things  have  been  said  about  the 
waves,  and  illimitable  vastness  of  a  landscape 
which  embraces  nothing  but  blue  water  and  blue 
sky.  All  the  funny  things  have  been  said  about 
sea-sickness.  Everybody  has  been  told  about  the 
fellow  who  for  the  first  hour  was  in  mortal  fear 
that  the  ship  would  go  down,  and  in  the  next  de- 
spondingly  feared  that  it  wouldn't.  I  will  forbear. 
To  me  the  sea  is  a  great,  big,  disgusting  fact, 
without  the  relief  of  sea-sickness.  If  there  is  any 
poetry  in  sailing  the  salt  seas  over,  it  is  to  be  found 
in  a  wind-jammer.  A  steamer  is  a  hybrid  subter 
fuge — a  big,  black,  overgrown  critter,  which  is 
unable  to  stand  up  in  a  fair  fight  with  the  elements, 
but  holds  steadily  to  its  course  by  the  aid  of  coal, 
in  spite  of  weather.  The  City  of  Mexico,  the 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  21 

oldest  and  smallest  of  the  Alexandre  line,  is  a 
staunch  little  craft,  with  an  undeserved  reputation 
as  a  high  roller.  It  is  true  that  occasionally  an 
unwary  passenger,  sitting  on  the  bench  behind  the 
lee  railing,  will  have  the  seat  of  his  pantaloons 
treated  to  a  cooling  salt  water  bath,  even  when 
the  vessel  is  light  and  standing  twenty  feet  out  of 
water  ;  but  this  is  not  much  of  a  roll  to  an  old 
sailor.  Captain  Mclntosh  is  a  thorough  sailor  and 
a  perfect  gentleman  withal.  Evervbody  put  in 
an  appearance  at  the  supper  table  just  before  we 
crossed  the  bar.  The  next  morning  there  was 
plenty  of  room,  and  the  waiters  were  not  over 
worked.  It  is  a  singular  and  exasperating  fact 
that  aboard  of  all  steamships  the  rule  is  five  "  eats  " 
a  day,  while  sea-sickness  generally  keeps  two- 
thirds  of  the  passengers  from  taking  more  than  one 
square  meal  between  ports.  To  those  who  keep 
up  the  various  meals  it  seems  to  break  the  monot 
ony  of  the  day  and  help  to  speed  the  laggard 
hours.  Our  voyage  was  uneventful  in  an  extraordi 
nary  degree.  There  was  a  fair  wind  and  gentle  sea 
for  the  most  of  the  time,  balmy  weather  and  moon 
light  nights,  which  those  who  were  not  sea-sick 
enjoyed  by  sitting  on  deck  and  watching  the 
wake  of  silver  which  the  vessel  left  astern  as  she 
plowed  her  way  through  the  dark  blue  water. 

Tampico  was  the  first  event.  The  ship  anchored 
six  or  eight  miles  out.  Through  a  glass  a  few 
church  spires  and  domes  of  the  city  wrere  visible, 
but  the  outlook  was  mostly  a  cheerless  outline  of 
sandy  coast  with  mountains  in  the  distance  and  an 


22  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

angry  surf  breaking  over  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of 
the  river.  It  is  a  disgusting  fact  that  there  is  not  a 
decent  harbor  on  the  Atlantic  coast  of  Mexico. 
Ships  anchor  away  off  from  the  shore,  and  dis 
charge  their  cargos  in  lighters.  If  a  Norther  is 
blowing,  and  it  generally  is,  the  ship  can't  anchor, 
but  must  cut  for  blue  water  again.  So  it  frequently 
happens  that  freight  for  Tampico  and  Tuxpan  is 
carried  from  New  Orleans  to  Vera  Cruz  and  back 
a  dozen  times  before  it  can  be  delivered.  There 
happened  to  be  a  good  bar,  and  soon  after  we  had 
anchored,  "  La  Fortuna,"  commanded  by  as  fine  a 
looking  pirate  as  ever  scuttled  a  ship  or  cut  a 
throat,  and  another  lighter  were  soon  at  our  side, 
receiving  empty  barrels  to  be  returned  with  honey, 
cases  of  wine  and  brandy,  iron  for  crowbars  to  be 
used  in  the  mines,  and  other  freight,  while  a  number 
of  smaller  boats,  containing  passengers,  fruits,  veg 
etables,  etc. ,  bobbed  up  and  down  at  the  ship's  sides, 
everybody  chattering  mixed  Spanish  and  Indian. 
Many  of  them  shinned  up  the  side  of  the  vessel 
and  came  aboard.  One  brown  fellow,  with  a  broad 
foot,  an  immense  vacant  space  between  the  big  toe 
and  its  nearest  neighbor,  and  not  much  clothes  on, 
had  a  squeaking  parrot  which  he  wras  anxious  to 
dispose  of  for  circo  -pesos.  Being  told  that  it  was 
too  much,  he  threw  out  a  challenge  for  an  offer.  I 
was  on  the  point  of  offering  him  four  bits,  but  for 
bore  for  fear  the  infernal  bird  should  be  left  on  my 
hands.  It  isn't  safe  to  make  any  sort  of  an  offer 
to  these  seaport  Mexicans  unless  you  mean  busi 
ness.  A  monkey  also  came  on  board,  but  it  was 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  23 

not  for  sale,  being  intended  "  for  the  General." 
There  was  a  stinking  wild  cat  in  a  box  which  fol 
lowed  us  to  the  hotel  at  Vera  Cruz,  and  in  an 
adjoining  compartment  accompanied  us  on  the 
railroad  as  far  as  Cordova.  While  the  Fortuna 
was  taking  in  her  cargo,  and  her  pirate  captain  and 
half-naked  crew  were  all  talking  at  once,  I  put  in 
an  interested  half  hour  in  watching  the  process 
of  making  an  olla-podrida  for  the  dinner  of  the 
crew.  The  artist  was  a  bright-eyed,  active  lad 
of  about  ten  years.  An  iron  pot  was  simmering 
over  a  small  charcoal  fire,  built  on  a  portable 
hearth,  and  into  this  the  little  fellow  dropped 
at  intervals  potatoes,  plantains  with  their  skins 
on,  beans,  shreds  of  cabbage,  bits  of  pumpkin, 
tomatoes,  a  few  cloves,  now  and  then  an  onion, 
and  a  piece  of  garlic.  The  pot  also  contained 
some  bits  of  ragged  meat,  either  sheep  or  ox. 
The  little  fellow  was  very  cleanly,  and  seemed 
to  take  a  lively  interest  in  his  work.  He  darted 
in  and  out  of  the  hatch  hole,  and  every  now  and 
then  peeped  into  the  pot  to  see  that  the  requisite 
degree  of  simmer  was  kept  up  without  approach 
ing  a  positive  boil. 

By  and  by  it  seemed  to  have  progressed  to  a 
point  where  it  demanded  the  finishing  touches.  A 
large  pod  of  chile  mulata,  the  mildest  species  of  the 
chile  family,  had  been  soaking  in  an  earthen  bowl 
until  it  had  colored  the  water  a  dark  brown.  The 
young  Soyer  now  took  a  half  dozen  cloves  of  gar 
lic  and  a  spoonful  of  the  seeds  of  the  chile  mulata, 


24  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

put  them  in  another  dish,  and  with  a  stone  pestle 
ground  them  into  a  paste.  Then  he  poured  the  con 
tents  of  the  other  bowl  into  this  one,  thoroughly 
mixed,  and  turned  the  mess  into  the  steaming  pot. 
A  few  moments  more  of  simmering  and  the  podrida 
was  an  accomplished  fact.  It  looked  good.  An 
intimation  that  we  wrould  like  to  try  it  was  cheer 
fully  responded  to.  A  rope  was  lowered  and  a  small 
bucket  of  stuff'  was  hoisted  up.  We  all  tasted, 
and  all  pronounced  it  good.  The  bucket  was 
sent  back  with  some  silver  pieces,  which  the 
young  monkey  pocketed  with  a  polite  "  mil  gra- 
cias  senores."  Several  passengers,  wrho  came  off 
in  small  boats,  were  hoisted  on  board  in  a  chair. 
The  women  hid  their  faces  in  making  the  giddy 
ascent,  and  bit  their  lips  hard  to  repress  a  shriek  ; 
the  babies  squalled  loudly,  and  the  boys  kicked 
and  laughed  in  making  the  ascent.  Leaving 
Tampico  the  next  morning  (Sunday),  we  an 
chored  in  front  of  Tuxpan.  The  scenery  was 
very  much  like  that  of  Tampico — an  invisible  town 
in  the  distance,  a  river  and  an  angry  bar  upon 
wrhich  the  surf  was  lashing  itself  to  fury.  It  was 
a  bad  bar,  and  three  lighters  had  gone  ashore  in 
the  effort  to  come  off  to  the  ship.  The  "  Juanita" 
(Litttle  John)  had  succeeded  in  getting  safely  over 
the  bar,  at  the  expense  of  a  thorough  drenching  of 
the  crew,  and  lay  alongside,  where  these  unsophis 
ticated  children  of  nature  drew  off  the  drawers  of 
unbleached  cotton,  which  was  their  only  nether 
garment,  and  calmly  proceeded  to  wring  the  salt 
water  from  their  saturated  shirts  in  the  presence 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  25 

of  the  "  passenjaire,"  male  and  female  after  their 
kind.  While  lying  at  Tuxpan,  we  first  began  to 
hear  of  that  winter  terror  of  the  gulf,  the  Norther. 
A  long,  low  bank  of  misty  clouds  gathered  at  the 
horizon's  edge,  and  soon  we  saw  the  natives,  and 
our  own  sailors  pointing  significantly  at  it.  "  What 
is  it,"  I  inquired  of  Captain  Mclntosh.  "Only  a 
Norther  coming,"  he  replied. 

As  it  happened  we  ran  away  from  our  Norther, 
and  for  this  once  was  spared  the  pleasure  of  its 
company.  In  the  night  we  passed  close  to  the 
wreck  of  the  City  of  Havana,  the  most  beautiful, 
the  swiftest  and  the  finest  vessel  of  the  Alexandre 
line,  which  was  wrecked  on  one  of  the  dreadful 
coral  reefs  which  make  this  coast  so  dangerous. 
Capt.  Phillips,  a  thorough  seaman,  and  a  sober, 
careful,  but  over  confident  man,  was  steaming 
along  on  a  fine  moonlight  night,  with  the  sea  as 
smooth  as  glass,  when  he  met  his  fate.  Shutting 
up  his  glass,  he  said,  "In  an  hour  we  will  be  in 
Tuxpan."  The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his 
mouth  when  his  beautiful  vessel  was  firmly  im 
bedded  in  the  saw-teeth  of  the  reef.  He  lost  his 
place,  and  shame  and  grief,  it  is  said,  have  made 
him  a  maniac.  A  little  before  daylight  we  are  on 
deck  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  lights  of 
Vera  Cruz,  one  of  which  flashes  forth  its  friendly 
rays  from  the  tower  on  the  Castle  of  San  Juan, 
while  the  other  shines  from  a  church  steeple  in  the 
city.  We  go  to  bed,  sleep  a  little,  get  up  and  find 
our  good  ship  rounding  into  the  harbor  between 
the  city  and  the  castle.  The  sea  is  smooth,  the 


26  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

sky  blue,  and  the  city  of  the  True  Cross  lies  be 
fore  us,  tranquilly  stinking  in  the  sunshine,  while 
from  the  misty  clouds  that  veil  the  mountain  range 
gleams  the  white  grandeur  of  Orizaba's  peak. 


. 


CHAPTER  II. 


VERA  CRUZ,  from  the  steamer's  anchorage  under 
the  walls  of  the  castle,  a  mile  or  more  from  shore, 
presents  an  imposing  appearance.  (There  is  but 
one  more  beautiful  view  of  it  to  be  had,  and  that 
is  from  the  stern  of  the  homeward-bound  steamer 
as  she  goes  out.)  While  the  boats  of  the  water 
men  are  gathering  about  the  vessel,  their  owners 
clamoring  for  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  safely 
landing  passengers  and  luggage  on  the  mole,  we 
take  a  long  look  at  the  yellow,  flat-roofed  houses, 
the  quaint  w^all  which  encloses  the  city  proper,  and 
the  glittering  sand-hills  in  the  rear.  Dr.  Harris, 
who  speaks  Spanish  as  if  he  really  enjoyed  it, 
chaffers  with  a  bare-legged  pirate,  and  finally  en 
gages  him  to  take  five  of  us  ashore  for  fifty  cents 
a  head.  It  \vas  in  the  pirate's  mind  to  ask  two 
dollars  a  head,  but  the  doctor's  fluent  Spanish 
"  rattled"  him,  and  he  came  down  to  hard-pan  on 
his  first  bid.  The  readiness  with  which  it  was  ac 
cepted  has  cast  a  gloom  over  his  entire  life.  It 
will  be  a  matter  of  undying  regret  to  him  that  he 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  27 

didn't  ask  a  dollar,  even  if  he  had  to  come  down 
to  fifty  cents.  We  descend  the  ship's  ladder, 
get  into  the  "bota  grande,  "  whose  beauties  our 
pirate  friend  has  so  poetically  eulogized,  and  are 
rowed  toward  tfre  shore.  The  "bota  grande  "  is  a 
clumsy  but  rather  stoutly-built  craft,  painted  blue. 
Its  only  claim  to  grandeur  in  its  interior  decora 
tion  is  a  strip  of  faded  plush  with  which  the  stern 
seat  is  cushioned.  A  smell  of  fish  inspires  the 
suspicion  that  quite  recently  it  has  been  engaged 
in  the  pursuits  which  kept  the  apostles  in  bread 
and  oil  previous  to  the  time  when  they  began 
studying  for  the  ministry.  The  mole  is  a  wide 
causeway  of  dark  stone,  which  extends  several 
hundred  feet  out  into  the  water.  Stone  stairways, 
at  intervals,  lead  down  to  the  water's  edge  for  the 
convenience  of  the  disembarking  passenger.  It 
is  an  easy  matter  in  this  trifling  sea,  but  at  times 
getting  ashore  is  rather  exciting  to  a  person  of 
weak  nerves.  It  is  quiet  enough  now.  A  loafing 
pelican,  which  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  harbor  pet, 
takes  lazy  little  flights,  and  returns  again  to  its  fa 
vorite  foraging  place.  A  half  dozen  semi-am 
phibious  boys,  naked  from  the  waist  up,  are  bath 
ing  in  the  clear  water,  and  the  mole  is  thronged 
with  people.  We  slide  smoothly  through  the 
clutches  of  the  custom-house  officers,  who 
scarcely  make  a  pretense  of  opening  our  modest 
valises.  Upon  a  demijohn  of  old  Bourbon,  taken 
along  for  the  purpose  of  making  American  resi 
dents  in  Mexico  homesick,  is  focused  the  suspic 
ious  gaze  of  the  -pratico.  "What  is  that?"  he 


28  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

finally  inquires.  "  Hypercoon,  "  replied  Mr.  P. 
The  official  looked  puzzled.  He  inquired  its  use, 
and  Mr.  P.  went  through  the  motions  of  taking  a 
snifter.  "For  yourself?"  he  continued;  "is  it 
good?"  On  being  told  that  it  was,  the  official 
"  smiled,  "  and  told  us  to  pass.  He  evidently  has 
a  favorable  opinion  of  the  drinking  capacity  of 
the  average  American  citizen. 

All  the  vexatious  preliminaries  settled,  our  bag 
gage  at  the  depot,  we  five  sat  down  to  a  cheerful 
breakfast  in  the  capacious  dining  room  of  the  Ho 
tel  Veracruzano.  Said  dining  room  was  on  the 
ground  floor,  with  the  public  bar  in  front.  From 
the  rafters  hang  a  score  or  more  ol  "  Kingan's 
Reliable"  hams  in  their  yellow  covers,  and  we 
are  prouder  than  ever  of  Indianapolis  enterprise. 
Ham,  however,  is  a  luxury  to  which  the  regular 
boarder  at  $2.50  per  day  must  not  aspire — a  waiter 
who  speaks  fluent  English  volunteering  the  expla 
nation  that  "  hammy  too  high."  We  eat  our 
breakfast  of  soup,  eggs,  fish,  various  meats  and 
delicious  fruits,  with  the  strong  black  coffee  of  the 
country,  and  pronounce  it  good.  Our  English 
friend,  who  has  a  critical  palate,  detects  the  flavor 
of  the  Spanish  wine  in  the  claret,  but  is  too  good- 
humored  to  grumble.  And  then  we  go  out  to  see 
the  town. 

If  one  could  trust  his  eyes,  Vera  Cruz  is  a 
cleanly  city.  Its  paved  streets  are  swept  every 
night ;  not  a  speck  of  dust  is  to  be  seen  ;  not  a  bit 
of  litter  is  to  be  found  anywhere.  This  appear 
ance  of  public  cleanliness,  coming  as  it  does  upon 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  29 

the  recollection  of  the  horrible  filth  through  which 
our  Indianapolis  belles  draggle  their  skirts,  almost 
convinces  us  that  Vera  Cruz  has  been  foully  slan 
dered.  But  unfortunately  at  this  moment  the  nose 
comes  in  with  a  mass  of  rebutting  testimony  which 
impeaches  the  credibility  of  the  eyes.  As  before 
stated,  Vera  Cruz  is  a  walled  town,  writh  bastion 
forts  at  either  extremity  of  the  shore  front.  The 
city  was  founded  by  the  Spaniards  in  1519,  a  short 
distance  from  the  present  site,  and  called  Villa 
Rica  de  Vera  Cruz — the  rich  city  of  the  true  cross. 
It  was  in  a  few  years  removed  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Antigua,  and  again  removed  to  its  present  site  in 
1590.  The  wall  is  built  of  coral  limestone,  and  is 
six  feet  high,  three  feet  thick,  and  pierced  at  inter 
vals  for  musketry.  The  city  contains  about  10,000 
population  inside  the  walls,  and  probably  as  many 
more  outside.  It  has  the  massive,  monotonous 
architecture  for  which  the  Spaniards  in  their  days 
of  manhood  were  noted — heavy  walls,  stuccoed 
with  cement  and  stained  yellow,  pink  or  blue  ;  flat 
roofs,  paved  with  heavy  square  bricks,  or  tiles,  and 
windows  heavily  grated  with  iron,  giving  each 
house  the  appearance  of  a  combined  fortress  and 
prison.  In  the  city  wall  and  walls  of  the  houses, 
in  the  pavements  and  loose  stones,  you  find  the 
most  beautiful  formations  of  coral,  and  are  duly 
impressed  with  the  industry  of  the  amazing  insect 
which  threw  up  these  abominable  reefs  from  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  and  created  abundant  material 
for  the  building  of  an  entire  city.  Water  from  a 
neighboring  stream  has  been  conveyed  to  the  city 


3O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

and  has  been  plentifully  distributed.  Through  the 
center  of  many  of  the  streets  there  runs  a  tiny 
streamlet,  which  serves  to  convey  the  liquid  slops 
to  the  Gulf.  The  zafillotes  (buzzards)  are  a  com 
mon  feature  of  Mexican  life  in  the  hot  lands.  In 
Vera  Cruz  they  swarm  like  flies.  The  zapillote 
is  smaller  than  our  buzzard,  neat  and  trim  in  its 
appearance,  but  nevertheless  a  buzzard  of  the 
straitest  sect. 

They  sit  on  the  domes  of  the  churches  and  the 
roofs  of  the  houses  in  black  clouds,  and  wade  in 
the  little  streams  of  milky  slop  that  trickle  through 
the  streets,  grubbing  for  such  garbage  as  is  avail 
able  for  food.  You  have  to  almost  kick  them  out 
of  the  way.  They  turn  their  bright  eyes  on  you  as 
you  pass,  and  are  quick  to  escape  a  threatening 
gesture,  though  too  lazy  to  get  out  of  the  way  for 
a  mere  feint.  A  garbage  cart  will  be  covered  with 
them  until  nothing  of  the  cart  or  its  contents  is  vis 
ible — all  scrambling  for  the  food  to  be  found  in  the 
mess.  They  vacate  the  cart  when  the  driver 
comes  out  of  the  house  writh  a  fresh  bucket  of  slop, 
and  take  convenient  position  in  the  street,  but  no 
sooner  is  his  back  turned  than  they  mount  again, 
and  renew  their  investigations.  These  buzzards- 
are  the  scavengers  of  Vera  Cruz,  but,  like  all  pub 
lic  servants,  they  find  republics  at  times  ungrate 
ful.  Just  now  a  heavy  fine  protects  them  from  in 
jury  or  even  insult,  but  it  has  not  been  long  since 
the  ayuntamiento  (I  believe  that  is  what  they  call 
the  honorable  body  which  is  analagous  to  our  city 
council)  took  it  into  their  wise  heads  that  the  buz- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  3! 

zards  were  a  relic  of  barbarism,  and  offended  the 
aesthetic  sense  of  the  casual  visitor.  So  they  set  a 
price  upon  their  heads — a  good  round  price  at 
that — and  they  were  slain  by  thousands.  The 
hunters  brought  them  in  by  the  .hundred,  the 
authorities  paid  the  stipulated  two  reals  per  head 
for  them,  and  then  the  carcasses  were  carted  down 
and  thrown  into  the  Gulf.  The  boys,  with  an  in 
genuity  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  gathered  them 
up  again,  and  continued  to  present  them  for  re 
demption  as  long  as  they  were  in  a  presentable 
condition.  They  bankrupted  the  treasury,  but 
the  city  was  pretty  well  cleared  of  buzzards.  That 
year  it  could  be  smelled  as  far  out  to  sea  as  Lobos 
island,  and  the  yellow  fever  was  worse  than  ever. 
So  the  next  change  of  administration  restored  the 
buzzards  to  favor,  and  here  they  are.  A  one-legged 
veteran  of  the  ornithological  St.  Bartholomew 
draws  a  pension.  He  hops  about  the  streets  with 
agile  grace,  and  is  allowed  privileges  denied  his 
unmutilated  brethren  on  account  of  his  misfortune. 
The  fickleness  of  the  Vera  Cruz  city  government 
is  manifested  in  other  matters  than  its  buzzard 
policy.  The  fate  of  the  city  wall  often  trembles  in 
the  balance.  In  time  of  revolution  the  gates  are 
closed,  and  getting  in  and  out  is  embarrassing. 
Besides,  many  think  that  the  wall  makes  the  fever 
worse  by  keeping  off  the  winds.  So  there  is  every 
now  and  then  a  movement  to  have  it  torn  down. 
The  magnificent  track  of  the  railroad,  built  out  in 
the  water  at  great  expense  for  the  purpose  of  facil 
itating  the  discharge  of  merchandise  from  vessels,. 


32  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

is  another  monument  of  Mexican  fickleness  or  per 
fidy.  The  government  calmly  permitted  the  com 
pany  to  build  it,  and  then  notified  them  that  they 
couldn't  use  it.  The  reason  given  is  not  a  novel 
one.  We  have  heard  it  before,  even  in  enlight 
ened  Columbia,  the  land  of  the  free,  etc.  They 
said  it  would  take  the  bread  out  of  the  working- 
men's  mouths.  It  was  the  same  argument  that 
was  urged  in  the  peanut  war  at  Erie  some  twenty 
years  ago,  when  the  proposed  change  of  railroad 
gauge  to  a  uniform  width,  so  as  to  avoid  the  delay 
and  expense  of  transfer,  created  a  riot.  It  is  also 
the  same  argument  which  our  workingmen  em 
ploy  to  discourage  the  employment  of  Chinamen. 
Whether  it  is  cheap  steam  or  cheap  human  labor, 
the  principle  is  the  same,  and  it  is  one  that  would 
blindly  resist  every  labor-saving  invention. 

Vera  Cruz  has  its  plaza,  as  has  every  other 
Spanish  town.  It  is  a  delightful  little  garden  spot, 
where  you  sit  under  the  cocoa  palms  and  listen  to 
the  chatter  of  the  daws,  while  the  plash  of  the 
fountain  falls  in  gentle  cadence  on  the  ear.  There 
are  beautiful  flowers,  pleasant  seats,  an  atmos 
phere  that  is  almost  sultry,  strange  sights  and 
sounds  all  around  you,  and  everything  to  make 
a  realization  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  middle  of 
January,  almost  impossible.  The  daws,  or  mag 
pies,  or  whatever  they  are,  interest  me  greatly. 
At  first  they  seem  to  be  the  crow  blackbird  of  our 
temperate  zone,  but  closer  investigation  shows  that 
they  are  larger  and  glossier,  and  if  any  additional 
evidence  were  needed,  their  voices  are  sufficient. 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  33 

They  occasionally  emit  the  harsh  "  chack  "  of  our 
blackbird,  but  have  an  abundance  of  other  tones, 
clear  and  musical.  They  alight  at  your  feet,  turn 
their  bright  eyes,  almost  human  in  their  intelli 
gence,  on  you,  with  a  quizzical  expression,  as  if 
anxious  to  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  about 
it.  These  birds  are  carnivorous.  They  will  steal 
a  mutton  chop  or  beef  bone,  fly  with  it  into  a 
neighboring  tree,  and  tear  it  in  fine  style.  Speak 
ing  of  birds  reminds  me  that  there  is  not  such  a 
thing  as  a  devil-sling  in  all  Mexico.  Wherever  I 
have  gone,  birds  of  all  kinds  have  manifested  little 
fear  of  man  or  boy.  An  American  boy  in  the 
plaza  of  Vera  Cruz,  armed  with  his  favorite  devil- 
sling,  would  find  it  a  paradise  indeed. 

Just  across  the  way  from  the  plaza  is  the  Hotel 
of  the  Diligences,  a  favorite  loafing  place  for  for 
eigners  and  natives.  They  sit  outside  of  the  cafe, 
under  the  portal,  drinking  coffee,  cognac  and  selt 
zer,  or  whatever  they  may  choose,  and  smoking 
the  cigars  of  the  country,  which  are  very  good  and 
very  cheap.  On  each  table  is  a  little  brazier  with 
lighted  charcoal,  for  renewing  the  cigars.  The 
Latin  races  are  generally  poor  drinkers.  With 
plenty  of  light  wine,  and  a  little  eau  sucre  or  cor 
dial  now  and  then,  and  an  occasional  thimble-full 
of  cognac,  they  can  rub  along.  But  Vera  Cruz  is 
an  exception  to  the  rule.  It  would  be  considered 
a  hard-drinking  city,  even  in  the  United  States. 
The  glasses  are  a  third  larger  even  than  those  of 
New  Orleans.  A  short  life  and  a  merry  one  seems 
to  be  the  rule  with  the  Veracruzanos,  and  the 


34  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

amount  of  tobacco  they  burn  and  brandy  they  de 
stroy  is  a  subject  of  wonderful  remark  all  over 
Mexico.  There  is  little  of  the  extreme  poverty 
which  is  visible  in  the  interior.  Yellow  Jack  pro 
tects  the  people  already  acclimated  from  competi 
tion.  Annually,  there  comes  from  the  interior  a 
few  score  of  young  men  of  all  conditions,  to  make 
their  fortunes,  and  annually  the  bronze  devil  gath 
ers  them  in. 

As  we  sit  in  the  plaza  our  English  friend,  who 
has  a  mania  for  laying  small  wagers  on  quaint 
events,  proposes  to  bet  that  within  five  minutes 
from  a  given  time  ten  men  will  not  pass  between 
the  arches  of  the  portal  directly  opposite  before 
one  woman  does.  Mr.  P.  takes  the  bet.  One, 
two,  three,  five,  eight  men  are  scored,  and  it  seems 
that  our  English  friend  is  booked  to  lose,  when  an 
old  woman,  very  drunk  and  very  dirty,  comes 
staggering  along  and  changes  the  prospect.  The 
odds  are  two  to  one  in  favor  of  "  the  Colonel,  "  as 
we  have  dubbed  our  Englishman,  when  the  woman 
stops  to  look  at  some  lottery  tickets,  and  while  she 
is  selecting  a  lucky  number  two  swaggering  sail 
ors,  arm  in  arm,  pass  under  the  arches,  and  the 
Englishman  loses.  Mr.  P.  then  proposes  to  bet 
that  ten  women  will  pass  between  two  arches  of 
the  portal  on  the  other  side  of  the  square  before 
five  men  do,  but,  as  that  road  leads  directly  to  the 
cathedral,  in  which  services  are  being  held,  the 
colonel  declines. 

We  finally  fell  into  the  tide  of  people  that 
seemed  to  be  flowing  into  the  cathedral,  and  en- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  35 

tered  that  sacred  structure.  It  was  on  the  occa 
sion  of  the  bishop's  visit,  and  Vera  Cruz,  which  i& 
not  nearly  so  devout  a  city  as  its  name  would  indi 
cate,  had  turned  out  almost  en  masse  to  absorb  re 
ligion  enough  to  tide  it  over  the  spring  season. 
Every  fond  mother,  and  they  were  of  all  colors  and 
conditions,  many  of  them  guiltless  of  the  sacred 
circlet  which  testifies  to  the  legality  of  love,  had 
brought  her  infant  to  receive  the  rich  boon  of  the 
bishop's  blessing.  There  were  at  least  five  hun 
dred  mothers,  each  with  a  squalling  infant  in  her 
arms,  and  some  of  them  with  two.  For  ear-split 
ting  shrillness  and  harshness  I  will  pit  the  squall 
of  the  Mexican  olive-branch  against  any  other 
sound,  vocal  or  mechanical,  in  the  world,  not  ex 
cepting  the  creak  of  an  ungreased  axle  or  the 
matin  song  of  that  domestic  warbler,  the  guinea 
hen.  They  kicked  and  squalled,  and  the  over 
worked  bishop  dissolved  in  perspiration  as  he  hur 
ried  through  his  arduous  task. 

A  couple  of  brief  letters  were  written  in  the  pub 
lic  room  of  the  hotel,  and  the  colonel  accompanied 
me  in  a  wild  hunt  for  the  post-office.  A  very  col 
ored  individual  was  encountered  on  the  street. 
Here,  I  thought,  is  one  man  at  least,  in  this  fra 
grant  pandemonium  of  brandy,  buzzards  and  bur 
ros,  who  can  speak  English.  But  I  slipped  up  on 
it.  Another  colored  man  likewise  failed  us.  Then 
I  happened  to  remember  that  scores  of  Cuban  ne 
groes  had  come  over  from  Havana  with  their  mas 
ters  in  times  past,  and,  learning  that  there  was  no 
slavery  in  Mexico,  had  concluded  to  remain. 


36  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

They  are  black  to  glossiness,  and  look  as  if  not 
more  than  one  generation  stood  between  them  and 
the  horrors  of  the  middle  passage.  The  colonel 
spoke  French,  German  and  Italian  fluently,  but  no 
Spanish.  One  and  another  pedestrian  was  tried 
with  "  Parlezvous  Francaise?  "  varied  with  "  Vous 
parlez  Francaise,  monsieur,"  but  all  to  no  pur 
pose.  And  then  we  tried  to  patch  up  a  sentence 
of  such  disjointed  Spanish  words  as  lingered  in 
our  memory.  ."  Dondecs  la"- — .  Here  we  stuck 
fast.  We  could  think  of  no  Spanish  word  bearing 
on  the  question  of  letters  or  stamps.  "Post  res- 
tante  "  was  tried,  but  without  avail.  Finally  it 
came  to  me — "el  correo."  How  and  when  I  ac 
quired  it  I  know  not.  It  seemed  like  inspiration. 
As  soon  as  they  knew  what  we  wanted  they  not 
only  manifested  a  willingness  to  direct  us,  but  sent 
a  brown  boy  to  show  us  the  way.  At  the  postof- 
fice  we  first  became  acquainted  with  the  delicious 
deliberation  with  which  public  business  is  trans 
acted  in  this  delightful  country.  The  postoffice 
was  enjoying  its  siesta,  and  was  not  to  be  disturbed. 
At  four  o'clock  they  would  be  ready  to  take  our 
letters.  In  civilized  countries  you  can  stamp  a 
letter,  and  send  it  to  the  office  by  a  boy.  Not  so 
in  Mexico.  The  government  prints  stamps,  it  is 
true,  but  they  can  only  be  affixed  to  a  letter  in  the 
presence  of  an  official.  Otherwise  they  are  nil. 
This  requires  the  personal  presence  of  the  writer 
every  time  a  letter  is  mailed,  or  of  his  agent. 

Having  pretty  thoroughly   done  the  interior,   I 
straggled  through  one  of  the  gates  to  have  a  look 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  37 

at  the  extra-mural  population.  There  is  another 
beautiful  park  just  outside  the  gate  through  which 
I  emerged,  with  cocoanut  trees,  full  of  fruit,  and 
other  curiosities  to  the  Northern  eye.  There 
was  a  stinking  ditch,  covered  with  lily  pads,  and 
beyond  lay  the  outer  city.  There  are  streets  of 
rude  board,  adobe  and  reed  houses,  populous  with 
babies,  dogs,  cocks,  goats  and  vermin.  It  is  alto 
gether  inferior  in  architecture  and  tone  to  the  in 
side  city,  but  richer  in  smell,  if  possible.  As  I 
thread  my  way  through  the  streets  in  an  aimless 
sort  of  manner,  "gawking"  about,  I  become  im 
pressed  with  a  Mexican  trait  which  is  remarkable 
— the  almost  entire  absence  of  curiosity  on  the  part 
of  the  lower  classes.  Nobody  gives  me  more  than 
a  passing  glance.  Before  a  dark  hovel,  in  one  of 
the  worst  quarters  of  the  outside  city,  an  Indian, 
freighted  like  a  pack-mule,  has  stopped  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  devoutly  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross  as 
I  overtake  him.  I  look  inside,  and  see  lighted 
candles,  weeping  women  and  children,  a  dark, 
scowling  masculine  face  which  seems  to  express  a 
rebellious  defiance  of  fate,  and  a  dying  woman, 
whom  a  priest  is  shriving.  "What  is  it?"  I  ask 
of  the  pack-mule  in  the  best  Spanish  I  can  muster. 
"j£7  vomito!"  I  feel  my  hair  bristling  up,  and  a 
cold  chill  runs  down  my  spinal  column.  I  don't 
believe  him,  but,  nevertheless,  I  saunter  back  to 
ward  the  hotel,  at  the  rate  of  about  eleven  miles 
an  hour,  as  Mark  Twain  expresses  it.  I  had  al 
ways  been  told  that  yellow  fever  disappears,  even 
from  Vera  Cruz,  when  the  Northers  begin  to  blow 


38  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

in  the  fall.  Nevertheless  the  remembrance  of  that 
dying  woman  haunted  me,  and  that  night,  as  we 
were  taking  a  cup  of  delicious  Cordova  coffee  at 
the  house  of  the  American  consul,  Dr.  Trow- 
bridge,  I  asked  him:  "Any  yellow  fever  in  the 
city,  Doctor?"  "Y-a-a-s,"  he  replied,  "a  good 
deal  of  it.  Generally  it  disappears  with  the  first 
Norther,  but  this  year  it  has  staid  with  us — a  fact 
which  none  of  us  can  account  for.  But  it  is  en 
tirely  confined  to  the  lower  classes."  It  is  curious 
to  see  how  these  old  stagers,  who  have  passed  the 
ordeal  of  Yellow  Jack  and  slipped  through  his 
clutches,  snap  their  fingers  in  his  face.  They 
whistle  him  down  the  wind.  "Not  a  bit  of  dan 
ger,"  says  Dr.  Trowbridge,  "unless  you  get 
scared.  All  the  people  who  die  of  yellow  fever 
are  frightened  to  death."  "  But,  Doctor,"  I  feebly 
suggested,  "how  did  the  people  get  in  the  habit 
of  being  scared."  The  doctor  looks  thought 
fully  at  the  ceiling  a  moment,  and  then  intimates 
that  in  his  opinion  I  am  "getting  too  durned  in 
quisitive."  All  of  which  reminds  me  of  the  French 
turnkey's  method  of  consoling  the  poor  devil  who 
is  being  carted  to  the  guillotine.  "  Courage,  mon 
brave,"  he  says,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder; 
"  it  is  nothing — as  you  will  see."  Yellow  fever  is 
nothing  to  these  fellows  who  have  had  it,  and  are 
no  longer  eligible  ;  but  to  me  it  is  a  great  deal, 
and  I  begin  to  have  an  ardent  longing  for  the  at 
mosphere  of  the  interior. 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 


39 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  public  washing  place  of  Vera  Cruz  is  a 
curious  institution.  Stone  troughs,  about  three 
feet  high,  extend  around  two  sides  of  a  large 
square.  These  troughs  are  divided  into  compart 
ments  which  look  very  much  like  stable  mangers, 
and  each  compartment  in  addition  to  the  recepta 
cle  for  the  water  is  furnished  with  a-  stone  slab 
upon  which  the  linen  is  rubbed.  Probably  a  hun 
dred  brown  women,  some  of  them  young  and 
handsome,  and  others  old  enough  and  ugly  enough 
to  have  stirred  Macbeth's  hell-broth,  were  busily 
engaged  in  rubbing,  smoking  and  chattering  as 
we  passed  ;  none  of  them  gave  us  more  than  a 
passing  glance.  Their  costume  was  cool,  by  no 
means  burdensome,  and  admitted  of  a  lavish  ex 
posure  of  bust,  arm  and  ankle.  The  water  is  fur 
nished  by  the  city  aqueduct,  and  each  washer  pays 
a  stipulated  rent.  On  the  whole,  it  is  a  great  im 
provement  on  the  mode  of  washing  as  practiced  in 
the  interior,  to  be  hereafter  described.  Such  of 
the  linen  as  was  hung  out  to  dry  seemed  to  be  de 
lightfully  white  and  clean,  but  the  process,  I  under 
stand,  is  rough  on  material  and  buttons.  Leaving 
the  washery  we  came  across  an  artesian  well  in 
process  of  construction.  Here  we  found  a  young 
man  from  Evansville,  by  the  name  of  Collins, 
whose  father  had  moved  to  Mexico  twenty  years 


40  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

ago.  Although  American  born  and  educated,  Mr. 
Collins  had  lived  so  long  and  so  exclusively  among 
Spanish-speaking  people  that  his  English  had  a 
decidedly  foreign  accent. 

The  train  for  Mexico  leaves  at  midnight.  Tired 
of  sight-seeing,  we  inflicted  our  company  on  Dr. 
Trowbridge,  the  American  consul,  for  the  even 
ing.  Here  we  met  Mr.  Foster,  the  American  min 
ister,  on  his  way  to  Washington,  who  very  kindly 
gave  us  letters  to  his  secretary,  Mr.  Richardson, 
and  other  parties  in  the  city  of  Mexico.  Having 
passed  a  very  pleasant  evening,  we  took  up  the 
line  of  march  for  the  depot,  holding  our  noses 
with  one  hand  and  our  traveling-bags  with  the 
other.  Vera  Cruz  is  self-assertive  in  daylight ;  at 
night  she  is  overwhelming.  At  last,  the  prelimi 
nary  fussing  and  fuming,  and  baggage-weighing 
and  ticket-buying  having  been  accomplished,  we 
are  snugly  ensconced  in  a  compartment  of  the  En 
glish  car,  and  the  train  moves  out. 

The  first  fifty  miles  of  the  road  is  through  a 
"chapparel"  country,  and  by  most  persons  the 
scenery  is  considered  dreary  and  tiresome.  It  in 
terested  me,  however,  almost  as  much  as  the  sub 
lime  mountain  views  further  on.  I  didn't  see 
much  of  it  going  out,  but  had  a  good  look  at  it  on 
the  return  trip.  It  is  a  thorny  jungle  all  the  way, 
with  here  and  there  a  little  village.  You  see  a 
tangled  network  of  thorns,  with  the  bare  trunks 
of  mahogany-looking  trees  shining  through  the 
mass.  There  seems  to  be  at  least  twenty  varieties 
of  tree  and  shrub,  all  richly  garnished  with  thorns, 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  4! 

the  tree-tops  woven  into  fantastic  shapes.  There 
are  brilliant  flowers  of  many  colors,  and  strange 
birds  flitting  about.  One  tree,  without  leaf,  is 
covered  with  a  profusion  of  yellow  flowers  as  large 
as  a  hollyhock.  It  is  the  richest  and  most  beauti 
ful  yellow  I  ever  saw,  and  is  called  the  flor  de 
dias — the  day  flower.  Of  the  birds  a  thrush, 
speckled  like  a  guinea  fowl,  seems  to  be  the  most 
startling  departure  from  the  ornithological  costume 
of  our  colder  clime.  The  most  astonishing  feature 
of  the  chapparel  country  is  the  tremendous  growth 
of  the  cactus.  The  prickly  pear,  which  with  us  is 
cultivated  in  flower  pots,  here  attains  the  thickness 
of  a  man's  body  in  its  trunk,  is  twenty  feet  high, 
and  its  spreading  branches  cover  an  area  of  twelve 
or  fifteen  feet.  The  organ  cactus  also  grows  to 
the  same  size,  and  looks  like  an  immense  can 
delabra.  This- organ  cactus  is  the  night  blooming 
cereus  of  our  green-houses,  but  instead  of  grow 
ing  in  the  slender,  rope-like  form  it  does  with  us, 
here  its  pipes  are  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm,  and 
grow  to  a  height  of  eight  or  ten  feet.  On  the  table 
lands  it  is  used  for  hedging,  and  miles  and  miles 
of  it  may  be  seen  devoted  to  this  purpose. 

Dr.  Harris  has  a  small  coffee  plantation  at  Cor 
dova,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  there  on  his  way 
home  to  settle  up  one  of  the  numerous  financial 
complications  which  foreigners  of  means  are  eter 
nally  getting  into  with  the  government,  local  or 
general.  As  none  of  us  had  ever  seen  the  fra 
grant  bean  growing,  we  concluded  to  accept  his  in 
vitation  and  lay  over  one  day.  We  arrived  at  the- 


42  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

station  about  five  o'clock.  Much  to  our  surprise 
we  found  a  street  railway  car  at  the  depot,  ready 
to  take  us  to  the  town,  about  a  mile  distant.  Ar 
riving  at  the  town,  we  routed  Dr.  Russell  from 
his  sweet  dream  of  peace,  and  were  made  wel 
come  to  the  luxuries  of  wash-bowl,  towel  and 
soap.  Dr.  R.  is  the  last  man  of  the  ill-fated  Car- 
lotta  colony — a  band  of  fiery-hearted  Southrons 
whose  high-mettled  souls  revolted  at  the  thought 
of  living  under  the  accursed  gridiron  flag,  and, 
as  cruel  fate  had  denied  them  the  privilege  of  ex 
piring  in  the  ultimate  ditch,  they  packed  up  the 
few  remaining  "calamities"  the  cruel  fortune  of 
war  had  left  them,  accepted  the  cordial  invitation 
of  Maximilian  and  went  to  Mexico.  At  first  the 
accounts  that  came  back  from  the  exiled  warriors 
exhaled  only  the  aroma  of  the  rose.  Never  was 
>such  a  climate;  never  such  a  soil-;  never  so  near 
an  approach  to  the  primal  paradise.  The  juci- 
ness  of  the  orange,  the  mealiness  of  the  banana, 
the  flavor  of  the  coffee,  the  saccharine  richness  of 
the  cane,  the  balminess  of  the  atmosphere,  were 
all  set  forth  in  glowing  accounts  that  made  mil 
lions  of  half-frozen  Yankees  mad  with  envy.  They 
almost  wished  that  they  had  been  licked  in  the 
great  fight,  and  had  run  away  from  their  country 
in  a  sulk,  if  it  had  taken  them  to  such  a  delightful 
climate,  where  a  fellow  had  nothing  to  do  but  loll 
in  the  shade,  and  let  the  mango  juice  run  down 
upon  his  beard  like  Aaron's  precious  ointment, 
while  his  coffee  trees  bent  beneath  their  burden, 
and  his  yams  grew  to  the  size  of  flour  barrels. 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  43 

By  and  by  other  and  less  entrancing  accounts 
leaked  out.  One  by  one  the  colonists  were  fever- 
stricken  and  died.  Then  Maximilian  was  butch 
ered,  and  the  incoming  administration  began  to  fon 
dle  the  Carlotta  colony  in  a  way  that  was  like  unto 
the  manner  in  which  a  grizzly  bear  caresses  a  call. 
Then  such  of  them  as  had  escaped  the  fever  be 
gan  to  straggle  back  to  the  United  States,  work 
ing  their  passage  in  sailing  vessels,  \vith  sallow 
faces,  meagre  wardrobes,  enlarged  livers  and  a 
change  of  heart  so  far  as  their  sentiments  toward 
the  old  flag  were  concerned.  There  is  nothing  that 
takes  the  rebellion  out  of  a  fellow  so  quickly  and 
completely  as  residence  among  the  Latinized  mon 
grels  of  Mexico,  and  the  few  of  the  Carlotta  colo 
ny  who  still  survive  feel  such  a  thrill  shoot  through 
their  lumbar  vertebrae  at  the  sight  of  the  old  flag 
as  we,  who  have  never  sinned  and  repented,  are 
strangers  to.  Dr.  Russell  is  the  Last  Man.  He 
is  sad,  silent  and  gentle  now,  all  the  fierceness  of 
his  ardent  nature  having  been  burnt  out  in  the  re 
fining  fires  of  adversity.  He  remains  because  his 
interests  keep  him  here,  and  he  has  become  to  a 
certain  extent  reconciled  to  his  exile,  but  his  heart 
is  still  in  the  Union,  and  he  could  almost  put  his 
arms  about  a  Massachusetts  Yankee's  neck.  The 
doctor  runs  a  coffee  plantation  and  practices  medi 
cine  at  intervals.  To  the  poor  he  is  a  benison,  and 
many  a  fever-stricken  Indian  owes  his  life  to  his 
unrequited  attention.  He  speaks  Spanish  with 
Castilian  purity,  and  that  easy,  self-assured  delib 
eration  which  alone  can  hold  its  own  with  the  po- 


44  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

lite  guile  of  the  Mexican  officials  ;  he  is  tenacious 
of  his  rights.  Only  a  few  days  before  we  arrived 
he  had  his  horse  shot  from  under  him,  but  I  am 
happy  to  say  the  act  had  no  political  significance. 
It  was  the  protest  of  Mexican  communists  who 
were  disposed  to  dispute  the  title  which  the  govern 
ment  had  given  the  doctor  to  his  lands.  By  the 
way,  the  doctor  desires  to  hear  from  the  heirs  of 
Bernardo  G.  Colfield,  a  colonist  from  Indiana  or 
Illinois,  he  thinks,  who  went  to  Cordova  in  1865, 
bought  lands,  returned  to  the  United  States  and 
died.  The  lands  have  increased  in  value,  and  he 
thinks  something  can  be  saved  for  the  heirs  by 
paying  up  the  taxes. 

Cordova  is  a  Spanish  town.  They  are  all  alike, 
the  same  low,  flat-roofed,  yellow  houses,  thick 
walls,  brick  roofs  and  floors,  grated  windows  and 
open  "courts,"  with  a  fountain  and  flowers  in  the 
better  class  of  dwellings  ;  the  same  old  churches, 
often  embellished  with  blue  porcelain  tiles,  and  the 
same  garden  spot  of  a  plaza. 

Possibly  Cordova  has  more  "get  up"  about  it 
than  the  ordinary  Mexican  town  of  its  class.  It 
has  public  schools  of  which  it  is  justly  proud,  and 
aspires  to  be  the  rural  Athens  of  Mexico.  While 
we  were  there  a  furious  discussion  was  raging  in 
its  newspapers  among  the  dilletanti  as  to  whether 
the  name  should  be  spelled  with  a  "  b  "  or  a  "  v." 
The  preponderance  of  evidence  seemed  to  be  in 
favor  of  the  "  b,"  though  the  bulk  of  usage  takes 
Sam.  Weller's  view  of  it,  and  spells  it  "with  a 
wee."  By  the  way,  Mexican  orthography  is  one 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  45 

of  those  things  which  no  fellow  can  find  out. 
They  use  the  "b"  and  the  "v,"  the  "g"  and  the 
"j,"  the  "s"  and  the  "x,"  and  various  other  let 
ters,  interchangeably,  and  not  infrequently  you 
find  a  word  in  which  three  letters  may  be  used  in 
terchangeably.  General  is  spelled  with  a  "g"  or 
a  "j,"  just  as  the  speller  happens  to  be  a  liberal 
or  a  conservative.  Mexico  is  spelled  with  an  "x" 
or  a  "j,"  and  pronounced  Meh-ico.  Orizaba  with 
a  "b"  or  a  "v,"  Tuxpan  with  an  "x"  or  an  "s," 
and  some  of  them  confuse  the  "n"  and  "m."  The 
"y"  and  the  "i"  also  get  mixed. 

Cordova  is  situated  on  the  first  plateau  of  the 
elevations  which  gradually  lead  up  to  the  table 
lands,  nearly  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  It  is  in  the  "hot  lands,"  and  everything 
is  decidedly  tropical  in  appearance.  Vegetation 
is  rank,  and  the  atmosphere  moist.  The  unculti 
vated  lands  are  almost  an  impenetrable  jungle, 
.starred  with  the  brilliant  red  flowers  of  the  tulipan 
and  other  floral  beauties.  Cocoa  nuts,  mangoes, 
zapotes,  guavas,  oranges,  lemons,  and  scores  of 
other  tropical  fruits,  abound,  while  myriads  of  the 
most  magnificent  orchids  the  world  can  show  are 
found  clinging  to  the  trees.  Coffee,  tobacco  and 
fruits  are  the  principal  products.  The  Cordova 
orange  is  the  best  in  the  world  ;  the  Cordova  coffee 
is  taking  high  rank,  and  the  tobacco  is  equal  to  the 
best  of  the  Cuba  product,  though  different  in  fla 
vor.  Dr.  Harris'  plantation  is  most  romantically 
situated  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  town,  on 
the  bank  of  a  little  river  which  tears  along  over  its 


46  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

rocky  bed  several  hundred  feet  below.  The  road 
to  the  plantation  lies  through  long  lanes  of  hedge 
rows,  with  coffee  plantations  on  either  side.  Na 
tive  huts,  built  of  reeds  and  thatched  with  straw,, 
without  window  or  chimney,  and  with  the  dampr 
dank  earth  for  a  floor,  line  the  way.  Lank  dogs 
erect  their  mangy  bristles  as  we  pass,  and  magnifi 
cent  fighting  cocks,  tethered  by  the  leg,  make  a 
passing  comment.  Little  brown  babies,  naked 
as  when  they  came  unbidden  into  this  cruel 
world,  and  with  a  premonition  of  the  fate  to  which 
they  are  born  in  their  sad  faces,  stop  rolling  in  the 
dirt  as  we  pass,  and  fix  their  round  white  eyes  on 
us  in  the  nearest  approach  to  curiosity  which  we 
have  yet  seen  in  Mexico.  We  begin  to  see  and 
feel  the  misery  which  an  inscrutable  providence 
has  permitted  to  be  fastened  on  this  fair  land.  We 
see  it  in  these  miserable,  fever-breeding,  vermin- 
haunted  huts,  but  more  than  all  in  the  sad,  despair 
ing  gravity  of  the  native  countenance. 

But  to  return  to  bur  coffee.  The  coffee  trees  are 
planted  in  rows,  with  intervening  rows  of  bananas, 
which  grow  to  the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet. 
The  latter  are  planted  for  the  purpose  of  shading 
the  coffee  trees,  which  love  moisture  and  heat,  but 
quail  beneath  the  direct  rays  of  the  vertical  sun. 
The  bananas  are  a  mere  side  issue,  but  not  infre 
quently  a  planter  will  make  his  year's  expenses  off 
the  fruit  crop,  and  have  the  coffee  for  clear  profit. 
I  am  told  that  thare  is  no  more  beautiful  sight  than 
a  coffee  field  in  full  bloom.  The  flowers  are  very 
much  like  orange  blossoms,  and  exhale  a  delight- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  4ft 

ful  fragrance  which  loads  the  air  for  miles  around. 
Now  the  trees  are  in  full  fruit  and  bending  beneath 
the  load  of  berries,  which  are  dark  purple  in  color, 
and  look  very  much  like  the  cranberry.  The  pulp 
which  surrounds  the  berry  has  a  pleasant,  slightly 
pungent,  sweetish  taste,  and  the  pickers,  who  be 
come  addicted  to  nibbling  as  they  pick  suffer  from 
sleeplessness.  The  coffee  trees  on- the  plantations 
are  all  the  way  from  four  to  twelve  feet  high, 
though  in  some  of  the  gardens  about  Cordova  they 
have  grown  to  be  as  large  as  the  medium-sized 
maples  which  shade  the  streets  of  Indianapolis. 
Planters  are  sorely  bedeviled  with  the  mischievous 
work  of  a  sort  of  mole  or  underground  rat,  which 
cuts  off  the  trunk  of  the  tree  with  its  sharp  teeth, 
and  lets  it  fall.  These  pests  seem  to  have  no  par 
ticular  object  in  view.  They  find  the  tree  in  their 
way  and  cut  it  down.  In  some  instances,  Dr. 
Russell  says,  they  will  cut  down  trees  eight  inches 
in  diameter.  The  planter,  going  through  his 
grounds,  gleefully  rubbing  his  hands  and  estimat 
ing  the  number  of  quintals  he  will  have,  finds  here 
and  there  a  tree  with  its  rich  burden  of  fruit  top 
pled  over,  and  if  an  impatient  oath  escapes  be 
tween  his  set  teeth,  probably  the  recording  angel 
will  take  the  provocation  into  account.  Two  of 
these  rat-felled  trees  we  trimmed  for  walking 
sticks,  and  it  is  cited  as  a  remarkable  fact  that  we 
carried  them  clear  to  the  city  of  Mexico  and  back 
to  Indianapolis.  When  the  berries  are  picked 
they  are  spread  on  the  ground  and  the  pulp  allow 
ed  to  rot,  being  frequently  stirred.  If  rain  comes, 


48  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

they  must  take  it,  for  the  berry  will  not  cure  under 
shelter.  After  a  walk  over  the  plantation  we  sat 
down  to  rest  and  eat  fruits  at  the  cottage,  where  a 
slender  brown  fellow  was  pounding  coffee  in  a 
wooden  mortar,  to  liberate  the  membrane  which 
envelops  the  grains,  and  a  bright-eyed,  rather 
pretty  and  demure  Indian  girl  was  sifting  and  as 
sorting  the  grains.  The  usual  dog  came  and 
sniffed  at  the  calves  of  our  legs  ;  two  bright  little 
girls,  mahogany  in  color,  came  and  brought  tor 
tillas  and  fried  eggs  as  a  present  to  Miss  Harris, 
whom  they  had  become  acquainted  with  on  a 
former  visit,  and  one  of  the  doctor's  familiars 
brought  us  oranges,  sweet  lemons,  bananas,  and  a 
small  palm  nut,  about  the  size  of  a  walnut,  very 
hard  to  crack,  and  of  very  little  account  after  it 
was  cracked.  Here  Dr.  Harris  and  Dr.  Russell 
talked  coffee,  while  P.  and  myself  ate  oran 
ges,  and  the  colonel  admired  the  demure  little 
maid  or  matron  who  was  sifting  coffee.  The  col 
onel  declared  he  had  never  seen  a  finer  pair  of 
eyes  in  his  life,  and  wondered  how  old  she  was. 
Dr.  Russell  translated  the  question  to  her,  and  she 
replied,  with  a  laugh:  "Jj^uien  sabe?" — "who 
knows."  (It  is  a  fact,  the  doctor  told  me,  that 
many  of  them  don't  know  their  ages).  The  de 
mure  little  woman  was  conscious  of  the  admiration 
she  had  inspired,  and  liked  it.  Not  so  with  the 
man  at  the  pestle — husband  or  lover  as  the  case 
might  be.  He  brought  his  pestle  down  with  a  vim 
which  made  it  whistle  viciously,  and  a  pained  look 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 


49 


came  over  his  brown  face  as  he  noted  the  girl's 
coquetry  and  the  Colonel's  pretense  of  gallantry. 
It  is  a  lesson  one  soon  learns  in  this  strange  coun 
try  not  to  admire  the  native  women  too  pronouncedly 
in  the  presence  of  the  men,  unless  you  are  prepared 
to  have  a  knife  scoured  in  your  ribs,  or  your  head 
split  open  with  a  machete.  The  women  do  not  ob 
ject,  but  their  lovers  have  little  toleration  for  flirta 
tions  in  which  they  do  not  play  the  principal  role. 
But  to  return  once  more  to  our  coffee.  The  crop 
this  year  is  immense,  and  can  not  be  all  harvested. 
As  the  berries  do  not  all  ripen  at  once,  the  pickers 
must  go  through  several  times.  In  the  last  pick 
ing  they  strip  the  trees  of  the  green  berries  so  as  to 
give  them  a  chance  to  rest  awhile  before  beginning 
the  next  crop.  The  planters  suffer  greatly  from 
thieves,  but  still  make  large  profits.  The  culture 
is  increasing  each  year,  and  new  plantations  are 
being  continually  opened.  The  foreign  demand 
for  Cordova  coffee  is  constantly  increasing,  and  al 
ready  the  dealers  of  New  Orleans  are  palming  off 
other  brands  as  the  genuine  Cordova  article.  On 
the  tips  of  each  twig  grow  a  handful  ofsmall,  round 
berries,  w7hich  are  called  car icar ilia.  This  berry 
is  so  highly  prized  by  Mexicans  that  none  of  it  is 
ever  exported.  While  the  ordinary  Cordova  ber 
ries  sell  at  seventeen  cents  a  pound,  car  icar  ilia 
commands  forty  cents  for  home  consumption.  Miss 
Harris  gave  us  a  small  bag  of  these  fancy  berries, 
wrhich  we  brought  home  with  us.  I  have  been  ex 
perimenting  with  caricarilld)  and  must  confess  that 
I  can  not  find  anything  remarkable  in  it.  It  is 
4 


5O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

very  strong  and  heavy-flavored,  and  makes  a  clear 
and  very  black  coffee,  but  seems  to  lack  the  deli 
cate  aroma  of  some  other  brands.  I  am  half  in 
clined  to  accept  Dr.  Russell's  theory.  Though  a 
coffee-grower  himself,  he  contends  that  all  this  pre 
tense  of  nice  discrimination  in  coffee  is  sheer  hum 
bug.  He  says  he  has  tested  experts  with  alternate 
cups  of  coffee  made  by  the  same  artist,  one  of  the 
car icar ilia  and  the  other  of  the  blasted,  cracked 
and  refuse  grains,  and  they  couldn't  tell  one  from 
the  other.  Perhaps  it's  like  it  is  with  whisky. 
When  a  fellow  is  nearly  dead  for  a  drink  a  swig  of 
r.  g.  makes  him  smack  his  lips  and  gabble  about 
nectar,  while  under  other  circumstances  he  will  de 
nounce  the  finest  eighteen-year-old  Bourbon  as  r.  g. 
When  he  gets  one  or  two  drinks  into  him,  his  palate 
lies  like  a  politician. 

A  curious  tribe  of  Indians  are  seen  in  the  streets 
of  Cordova.  The  men  wear  the  ordinary  ponche 
and  a  pair  of  white  cotton  trousers,  coming  down 
halfway  to  the  knee,  while  the  women  are  plainly 
attired  in  white  shirt  and  a  strip  of  blue  cloth  tied 
about  the  waist  and  falling  to  the  ankles.  They 
pay  tribute  to  the  Mexican  government  but  will  not 
serve  in  the  army.  The  women  will  not  speak  to 
or  look  at  anybody  not  belonging  to  their  tribe, 
and  the  men  boast  that  they  were  never  conquered 
by  the  Spaniards.  Miss  Harris  called  my  atten 
tion  to  something  hanging  out  of  a  shop  window, 
which  looked  like  two  or  three  bundles  of  fodder 
arranged  to  shed  the  rain.  It  proved  to  be  a  Mex- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  51 

ican  overcoat,  made  of  grass  and  worn  by  these 
people  in  the  rainy  season. 

While  sitting  in  Dr.  Russell's  parlor  in  the  even 
ing,  said  parlor  being  ornamented  with  a  pair  of 
navy  sixes  and  a  Winchester  rifle,  we  were  startled 
by  a  terrible  scurrying  and  scampering  in  the  gar 
ret  overhead.  On  inquiring  of  the  doctor  \ve  were 
told  that  it  was  only  his  opossums  at  play.  These 
creatures  are  harbored  on  account  of  their  rat- 
hunting  propensities.  We  had  put  in  a  busy  day 
at  Cordova.  After  dinner  at  the  house  of  a  Ger 
man  woman  who  had  listened  to  Dr.  Russell's  in 
tercession  and  kindly  consented  to  feed  us,  three 
of  us  retired  to  rest  at  Don  Juan's  hostelrv,  while 

*J  J   " 

Dr.  Harris  and  his  daughter  were  accommodated 
with  a  bed  at  Dr.  Russell's.  As  we  had  to  get  up 
at  four,  a  good  deal  of  solicitude  was  expressed  as 
to  the  reliability  of  Holy  Cross,  the  porter  of  Don 
Juan's  inn,  whose  duty  it  was  to  wake  us.  The  Don, 
who  is  a  smoothly-shaven,  dulcet-voiced  Castilian, 
and  looks  as  if  he  ought  to  have  been  a  priest, 
shrugged  his  .shoulders  when  questioned  as  to 
Holy  Cross's  liability  to  oversleep  himself,  and  re 
plied  that  he  (H.  C.)  was  a  mule.  Dr.  Russell 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  if  Holy  Cross  should 
have  an  attack  of  nightmare  about  half-past  three, 
and  should  wake  up  just  as  the  wild  bull  was  over 
taking  him,  he  would  not  go  to  sleep  again  until 
four,  and  we  would  be  aroused  in  time.  The  con 
sequence  was  that  we  all  went  to  bed  with  it  on  our 
minds,  and  began  getting  up  in  sections,  all  the 
way  from  midnight  to  four  o'clock.  Don  Juan's 


52  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

rooms  are  not  as  magnificently  furnished  as  those 
of  the  New  York  hotels.  Our  room  had  a  brick 
floor,  grated  windows,  doors  like  a  jail,  and  a  key 
that  would  weigh  about  seven  pounds.  The  beds 
were  mere  cots,  without  mattrass,  but  covered  with 
the  snowiest  linen  sheets  and  the  gay  blanket  of 
the  country.  Notwithstanding  the  novelty  of  the  sit 
uation,  we  slept  soundly  until  we  began  getting  up. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I  HAVE  frittered  away  my  descriptive  powers  on 
inferior  subjects,  and  therefore  can  not  do  justice 
to  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  mountain  scen 
ery  of  Mexico.  After  leaving  the  "  low  flat  land  " 
of  the  coast,  and  beginning  the  ascent  to  the  table 
lands,  the  route  affords  a  constant  succession  of 
surprises.  First  come  the  Chiquihuites,  groups  of 
round,  smooth  domes,  covering  the  mountain  tops, 
and  looking  like  inverted  peach  baskets.  In  the 
mellow  distance  the  verdant  pines  that  cover  the 
surface  of  these  baby  mountains  are  indistinguish 
able  as  individual  trees,  and  the  surfaces  look 
smooth  as  if  the  grass  had  been  closely  cut  with  a 
lawn  mower.  There  are  fleeting  glimpses  of  water 
falls,  where  a  silver  stream  bursts  through  a  dark 
gorge  in  the  mountain's  side,  tumbles  in  a  white 
sheet  over  a  precipice,  and  then  foams  its  way  to 
the  Gulf.  Over  immense  iron  bridges,  apparently 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  53 

sixty,  seventy  or  a  hundred  feet  high  ;  creeping 
around  the  edges  of  chasms  where  a  broken  rail 
would  give  a  sheer  fall  of  a  thousand  feet ;  plung 
ing  through  tunnel  after  tunnel,  the  train  goes, 
drawn  by  an  immense  double-headed  engine — up, 
up,  until  the  rarified  air  makes  breathing  difficult, 
and  the  blood  gushes  from  the  noses  of  some  of  the 
passengers.  Within  a  distance  of  thirty  miles  the 
train  makes  an  ascent  of  four  thousand  feet.  For 
two  hours,  at  least,  we  circle  around  the  little  In 
dian  village  of  Maltrate,  on  different  levels,  until 
Alta  Luz  (high  light)  is  reached.  It  seems  as  if  we 
cannot  get  away  from  Maltrate.  First  we  stop  there, 
and  are  besieged  by  scores  of  spruce  and  rather 
handsome  Indian  women  with  tortillas,  delicious 
pine  apples,  chirimoyas  and  other  fruits  to  sell.  The 
chirimoya  is  the  crack  fruit  of  Mexico.  It  is  large, 
greenish-looking,  irregular  in  shape,  some  of  the 
biggest  weighing  a  pound,  and  full  of  a  custard- 
like  pulp,  the  sweet  richness  of  which  is  tempered 
with  a  delicious  sub-acid.  The  village  of  Mal 
trate  is  pure  Indian.  No  white  man  need  apply. 
It  is  a  neat,  trim-looking  place,  and  is  full  of  caste. 
They  have  an  aristocracy,  a  middle  class  and  a 
poor  class,  and  are  great  sticklers  for  keeping  up 
the  barriers  between  them.  Leaving  this  village 
the  train  climbs  around  and  around,  almost  doub 
ling  on  itself,  and  from  higher  elevations  the  vil 
lage  again  bursts  upon  our  sight,  until  finally  from 
Alta  Luz  it  is  seen  far,  far  below,  its  streets  and 
houses  and  neatly-trimmed  gardens  looking  like  a 
toy  village.  Men  and  beasts  appear  as  insects.  In 


54  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

making  the  ascent  we  get  glimpses  of  delightful 
valleys,  which  seem  in  their  sylvan  beauty  and 
the  freshness  of  their  verdure  to  realize  our  dreams 
of  Paradise.  Up  one  of  these  fair  vales,  just  be 
yond  a  clump  of  what  seem  to  be  fruit  trees,  but 
unfortunately  out  of  sight,  lies  another  Indian  vil 
lage,  more  remarkable  even  than  Maltrate.  Its  peo 
ple  are  more  exclusive  than  the  Japanese  used  to  be. 
They  will  not  even  give  a  white  man  food  or  shelter 
for  fear  he  may  be  seeking  a  lodgment  in  their 
town. 

Fantastic  names  are  given  to  many  of  the  points 
of  interest  in  this  mountain  region,  such  as  "El 
Infernillo"  (the  Little  Hell),  Devil's  Balcony,  etc. 
In  some  places,  we  are  told,  the  workmen,  tied  in 
chairs,  were  swung  from  the  precipices,  and  thus 
suspended  over  a  chasm  hundreds  of  feet  deep, 
hewed  the  roadway  out  of  the  solid  rock.  The  lit 
tle  shanties  of  the  road  watchmen,  with  maybe  a 
bit  of  garden  around  them,  are  the  only  signs  of 
civilization  seen  as  we  rise  above  the  valleys.  All 
is  wild,  weird  and  grand — oppressively  grand. 

At  Boca  del  Monte  (throat  of  the  mountain)  the 
highest  elevation  is  reached,  and  we  enter  upon 
the  table  land,  7,500  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is  a 
small  station,  with  a  few  eating  and  drinking 
houses.  The  woods  are  full  of  a  very  peculiar  or 
chid,  wrhich  has  a  vermilion-colored  cone  about 
eight  inches  long,  an  inch  and  a  half  thick,  and 
covered  with  over-lapping  scales  like  those  of  a 
pineapple.  The  Mexican  trees  are  full  of  para 
sites.  Besides  the  orchids  mentioned,  there  are 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  55 

thousands   of  little    tufts    of  a    moss-looking  sub 
stance  fastened  to  the  limbs. 

From  Boca  del  Monte  to  the  city  an  entirely  new 
variety  of  scenery  is  presented.  It  is  a  flat,  tree 
less  stretch  of  arid-looking  land,  in  many  respects 
like  our  western  plains,  but  hedged  in  with  blue 
mountains.  Immense  fields  devoted  to  the  culti 
vation  of  maize  and  barley  are  seen  on  either  side, 
with  the  white  farm-houses,  walled  like  forts  and 
surrounded  by  the  adobe  huts  of  the  peons,  in  the 
distance.  Scarcely  a  tree  or  a  shrub  is  to  be  seen. 
It  is  one  eternal,  monotonous  expanse  of  brown, 
earth,  with  scarcely  a  morsel  of  green  to  relieve 
the  tired  eye.  The  low,  stunted  stalks  of  last  sea 
son's  corn  crop,  planted  a  single  grain  in  the  hill, 
and  the  barley  stubble,  indicate  that  the  land  is 
productive  ;  otherwise  we  would  set  it  down  as  a 
desert.  There  are  no  fences.  Ditches  seem  to 
mark  the  measure  of  the  land.  Some  of  the  haci 
endas  are  of  immense  extent,  embracing  land 
enough  for  an  entire  county.  Doubtless  in  the 
rainy  season  there  is  a  change  for  the  better  in  the 
appearance  of  the  country,  but  in  January  it  looks 
gloomy  enough.  As  we  trundle  along  at  the  leis 
urely  Mexican  rate  of  travel,  which,  moderate  as 
it. is,  is  fast  enough  to  raise  clouds  of  dust,  we  see 
from  the  car  window  herds  of  circling  horses 
tramping  out  the  grain  which  the  peons  are  win 
nowing  ;  herds  of  cattle,  black  sheep  and  lop-eared 
swine  ;  while  every  few  moments  a  whirlwind  car 
ries  a  spiral  column  of  dust  far  upward  toward  the 
sky.  The  atmosphere  is  delightfully  clear,  and  the 


56  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

blue  mountains,  which  are  leagues  upon  leagues 
away,  seem  almost  at  our  feet.  Now  we  see  great 
Orizaba's  glistening  peak,  so  close  that  through  a 
field  glass  we  can  mark  the  wide  chasm  through 
which  he  once  poured  his  flood  of  hissing  lava,  and 
now  some  pigmy  peak  obscures  the  view.  Malin- 
che  (named  after  the  Indian  mistress  of  Cortez)  is 
an  unassuming  mountain,  whose  moderate  height 
does  not  admit  of  eternal  snow. 

Very  frequently  she  wears  a  white  head-dress 
for  her  morning  reception,  but  the  hot  sun  soon 
burns  it  away.  Then  comes  a  happy  point  where, 
if  the  atmosphere  is  favorable,  all  three  of  the 
great  snow  mountains,  Orizaba,  Popocatapetl  and 
Ixtaccihuatl,  are  visible.  The  man  who  is  fortu 
nate  enough  to  get  this  magnificent  view,  for  even 
one  fleeting  moment,  will  have  something  to  re 
member  as  long  as  he  lives.  There  is  something 
in  the  cold,  pure  majesty  of  the  snowr  mountains 
which  fascinates  and  overawes.  The  more  you 
see  of  them  the  less  familiar  they  become.  Thev 
are  no  longer  inanimate  things.  They  seem  to  sit 
in  calm  judgment  on  the  sin-cursed  land. 

Mexico  is  probablv  as  quiet  now  as  it  ever  has 
been  or  ever  will  be.  But  we  see  many  things 
that  testify  to  the  uncertain  tenure  of  life  and  prop 
erty.  An  escort  of  soldiers  accompanies  each 
train.  The  white  arms  of  crosses,  erected  at  inter 
vals  along  the  roadside,  mark  the  spots  where  the 
bones  of  murdered  men  are  crumbling  to  dust, 
and  at  each  station  a  squad  of  cavalry,  mounted 
on  richly  caparisoned  horses,  with  carbines  in 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  57 

holsters  and  sabres  at  their  sides,  are  drawn  up 
along  the  platform.  These  are  detachments  of  the 
Interior  Guard,  an  organization  gotten  up  by  Diaz 
to  protect  his  own  and  the  people's  interests  against 
robbers  and  revolutionists.  This  guard  is  made 
up  of  a  much  better  class  of  men  than  the  regular 
army.  The  finest  squad  I  saw  was  at  Huamantla, 
a  town  which  has  the  proud  distinction  of  having 
more  churches  and  robbers  than  any  other  place 
in  Mexico.  They  were  fine-looking,  intelligent, 
determined  fellows,  and  the  most  magnificent 
horsemen  in  the  world.  They  ride  erect  in  the 
saddle,  with  their  legs  straight  in  the  stirrups,  and 
horse  and  rider  move  so  harmoniously  that  they 
seem  to  be  blended  in  a  single  animal. 

By  and  by  we  get  out  of  the  barley  country  and 
strike  the  pulque  region.  Here  a  new  wonder 
opens  to  the  view.  For  hours  and  hours  the  train 
passes  through  interminable  fields  of  the  American 
aloe,  or  maguey,  as  it  is  called.  It  is  what  is 
known  in  American  green-houses  as  the  cen 
tury  plant.  From  it  is  procured  the  national  tipple 
of  Mexico — pulque.  The  vastness  of  these  pul 
que  fields  is  almost  incredible.  On  either  side,  be 
hind,  ahead,  as  far  as  the  tired  eye  can  reach,  you 
see  nothing  but  endless  rows  of  maguey  plants,  in 
various  stages  of  growth,  some  of  them  shooting 
their  tall  bloom  spires  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  in  the 
air,  but  most  of  them  getting  ready  to  yield  their 
sap  for  the  favorite  drink.  It  takes  eight  years  for 
the  maguey  to  come  to  perfection.  At  this  age  the 
tap  root  is  cut,  the  center  of  the  great  plant  scooped 


5  8  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

out,  leaving  a  hollow  cup  that  will  hold  two  or 
three  gallons  of  sap,  and  the  work  of  pulque  mak 
ing  begins.  For  eight  or  nine  months  the  sap 
flows,  and  a  healthy,  well-grown  plant  will  yield 
four  or  five  hundred  gallons  of  fluid,  after  which  it 
is  done  for.  The  unfermented  juice  is  called  agua 
miel  (honey  water),  and  is  well  entitled  to  the 
name.  It  is  very  rich  in  saccharine  matter,  and 
very  delicate.  When  slightly  fermented  it  is  a 
pleasant,  refreshing  drink,  with  the  merest  trace 
of  alcohol,  but  when  "at  its  best,"  as  the  Mexicans 
like  it,  after  having  been  wallowed  about  in  the 
filthy  pig-skins  in  which  it  is  transported,  it  be 
comes  the  most  atrocious  beverage  that  ever  a  man 
put  into  his  stomach.  In  this  condition  of  "ripe 
ness"  it  is  milky  white  in  color,  thick  and  ropy,  a 
powerful  intoxicant,  and  tastes  like  rotten  butter 
milk  braced  up  with  pine-top  whisky.  It  is  more 
infamous  than  hard  cider  or  "black-strap."  I  had 
heard  much  of  pulque,  and  with  that  curiosity 
which  naturally  precedes  the  acquisition  of  knowl 
edge,  embraced  the  first  opportunity  for  making  its 
acquaintance.  I  bought  some  from  an  Indian  girl, 
paying  a  claco  (about  a  cent  and  a  half)  for  a  quart 
of  it,  vessel  and  all,  and  tasted.  It  was  fresh  from 
the  plant,  with  just  enough  of  fermentation  to  pro 
duce  a  creamy  foam  on  the  surface,  and  had  never 
touched  a  pig-skin.  I  found  it  nice  but  formed  a 
rather  contemptuous  opinion  of  its  drunk-making 
powers. 

The    next    I    tasted  was  in  the  city  of  Mexico, 
where  the  gaily-painted  sign  of  a    dancing    girl, 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  59 

with  an  inscription  announcing  " pulques finos-y  ac- 
creditos"  invited  the  weary  wayfarer  to  pause  and 
"•  refresco  "  himself.  In  response  to  my  demand 
the  vender  seized  a  large  glass  that  would  hold 
about  a  pint,  and  with  a  leprous  thumb  on  the  out 
side  and  a  leprous  finger  on  the  inside  dipped  it  in 
to  the  barrel,  and  drew  it  forth  full  of"  accredited  " 
pulque.  The  finger  in  the  glass  made  me  feel  a 
little  qualmish,  and  I  motioned  toward  a  vessel  with 
a  handle.  With  a  muttered  imprecation,  and  a 
growl  which  seemed  like  a  Spanish  translation  of  a 
celebrated  apothegm,  to  the  effect  that  "  some  folks 
are  a  1-e-e-tle  too  nice  to  live,"  he  filled  up  the  other 
glass  without  giving  his  fingers  a  bath.  Ugh  !  I 
can  taste  it  yet.  I  can  fancy  nothing  like  it  unless 
it  be  the  fermented  must  of  grapes  mixed  with  ran 
cid  buttermilk,  and  flavored  with  "  all  sorts  "  from 
a  villainous  rum-mill.  The  maguey  is  propagated 
from  shoots  or  suckers.  These  shoots  are  taken  up, 
the  roots  cut  off,  and  then  the  plants  are  left  lying 
in  the  sun  for  a  month  or  two,  until  thoroughly 
dried,  when  they  are  planted.  Unless  taken 
through  this  preparatory  course  the  absurd  things 
would  rot  on  being  put  into  the  ground.  What 
most  astonishes  the  traveler  is  the  overwhelming 
extent  of  pulque  culture.  Here  are  millions  of 
acres  of  land  devoted  to  the  culture  of  a  luxury- 
something  that  goes  down  the  throat  and  produces 
neither  bone,  blood  nor  muscle.  It  is  the  thief 
that  steals  away  the  miserable  brains  of  these  two- 
legged  beasts  of  burden.  The  "invisible  spirit" 
of  pulque  leaves  visible  traces  all  over  this  part  of 


6O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

the  republic.  The  "  pulque  train"  leaves  the  city 
of  Mexico  every  morning,  and  returns  at  night,  la 
den  with  the  precious  juice. 

It  is  distributed  all  over  the  city  and  in  the  sur 
rounding  towns  in  pig  and  sheepskins.  A  load  of 
these  pulque-filled  skins  reminds  me  of  nothing  so 
much  as  a  lot  of  cholera  hogs  in  a  dead  animal 
wagon  on  the  way  to  their  destination.  They  lie  on 
their  backs  in  the  cart,  their  feet  sticking  up,  and, 
the  liquor  having  softened  the  skin,  they  shake 
and  quiver  in  the  most  disgusting  manner.  The 
gayest  shops  in  the  city  are  pulque  shops.  The 
stuff'  is  so  disgustingly  cheap,  and  when  in  prime 
condition  so  full  of  drunk,  that  it  is  astonishing 
how  little  of  real  drunkenness  is  seen.  When 
cleanly  and  carefully  handled,  however,  pulque  is 
capable  of  being  made  into  a  very  appetizing 
drink.  It  is  so  delicate  that  the  slightest  contact 
with  a  pig-skin  ruins  it,  but  when  fermented  in 
earthen  jars  it  becomes  a  very  pleasant  and  com 
paratively  harmless  beverage.  At  Dr.  Harris1  I 
tasted  some  which  had  all  the  sparkle  and  fresh 
ness  of  champagne.  The  doctor  says  it  cured 
him  of  a  bad  case  of  dyspepsia,  and  that  when 
cleanly  prepared  it  is  a  sovereign  remedy  for  many 
forms  of  that  disease.  The  pulque  plant  is  capa 
ble  of  being  useful  as  well  as  ornamental.  Ropes, 
paper  and  linen  may  be  made  of  its  fibres.  In 
the  museum  of  the  city  of  Mexico  may  be  seen 
specimens  of  the  picture  writing  of  the  Aztecs, 
upon  paper  made  from  this  plant.  Perhaps  the 
time  may  come  when  so  poor  a  people  as  the  ma- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  6l 

jority  of  Mexicans  are  can  find  something  better 
for  the  maguey  to  do  than  to  make  them  drunk. 

The  pyramids  of  San  Juan  Teotihuacan  are  about 
the  last  visible  point  of  interest  before  entering  the 
city  of  Mexico.  Soon  after  leaving  this  point  night 
overtakes  the  train,  and  with  the  exception  of  occa 
sional  glimpses  of  lake  Texcuco  nothing  is  to  be 
seen  until  we  fetch  up  in  the  depot  at  Buena  Vista, 
and  once  more  have  the  delightful  felicity  of  run 
ning  the  custom-house  gauntlet.  It  is  one  of  the 
peculiarities  of  the  Mexican  mode  of  doing  busi 
ness  that  the  traveler,  having  passed  through  one 
custom-house  at  Vera  Cruz,  encounters  another  at 
the  end  of  his  journey — which  looks  like  rubbing  it 
in  on  a  fellow.  The  pyramids — supposed  to  repre 
sent  the  sun  and  moon — are  great  mounds  of  earth, 
full  of  bones  and  precious  relics.  Wagon-loads  of 
grotesque  heads  of  men  and  animals,  moulded  in 
clay  and  cut  in  stone,  are  picked  up  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  one  little,  two  little,  twenty  little  "  in- 
jun  boys  "  offer  them  for  sale.  I  bought  about  half 
a  gallon  of  these  images,  with  some  spear  and  ar 
row-heads  of  obsidian  (the  black  glass-like  sub 
stance  of  which  the  blades  of  Lew.  Wallace's  ma- 
quahuitls  were  made)  for  a  real — twelve  and  a  half 
cents.  They  were  mostly  of  clay,  but  among  them 
were  a  head  of  cut  stone  and  two  or  three  stone 
buttons  or  beads,  which  the  young  savage  had  tied 
together  by  a  string,  and  which  he  held  up  for  my 
admiration  as  something  especially  precious.  As  I 
afterward  saw  some  of  the  same  kind  in  the  museum, 
I  conclude  that  they  are  more  ancient  than  the  clay 


62  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

images.  It  isn't  always  safe  to  purchase  relics,  but 
these  images  are  so  abundant  about  San  Juan  that 
it  is  infinitely  cheaper  to  pick  up  the  genuine  than 
it  would  be  to  make  counterfeits. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  COLORED  coachman  conveyed  us  from  the  de 
pot  to  the  Hotel  Comonfort,  in  the  street  of  Cinco 
de  Mayo,  (the  5th  of  May.)  This  is  a  favorite 
name  for  pulque  shops  and  other  things  in  the  city 
of  Mexico.  On  inquiry  we  learn  that  the  5th  of 
May  has  almost  as  much  importance  in  Mexico  as 
the  Fourth  of  July  with  us.  On  that  day  they  de 
feated  (or  thought  they  did)  the  French  at  Puebla. 
Our  colored  coachman  proves  to  be  a  Georgia  ne 
gro  who  came  out  with  Scott's  army  as  servant  to 
one  of  the  officers.  On  the  withdrawal  of  the 
army  he  concluded  to  remain.  He  liked  the  cli 
mate.  Better  still,  he  liked  the  idea  of  being  his 
own  master.  He  has  accumulated  lucre,  and  on 
the  whole  is  pretty  well  contented  with  the  situa 
tion.  Before  the  emancipation  his  heart  was  nearly 
broken  with  the  longing  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  his 
childhood.  Now  that  he  could  safely  make  the 
visit  without  danger  of  having  the  shackles  refas- 
tened  on  his  limbs,  he  cares  less  about  it,  though  he 
still  vaguely  intends  to  carry  out  the  project  at 
some  future  time.  He  has  become  thoroughly  in- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  63 

fected  with  the  indolent  manana  spirit  of  Mexico, 
which  makes  a  point  of  never  doing  to-day  that 
which  can  be  put  oft'  till  to-morrow.  The  Hotel 
Comonfort  we  found  to  be  a  rather  modern  build 
ing,  for  Mexico,  built  with  open  interior  court  and 
inside  galleries  for  each  floor.  It  looked  a  little 
queer  to  see  the  stars  above  us  in  place  of  a  roof. 
We  got  good  rooms  at  the  rate  of  forty  dollars  per 
month,  neatly  carpeted  and  furnished  with  brass 
bedsteads  and  soft  mattresses.  We  had  scarcely 
got  settled  in  our  new  quarters  before  Pedro  Dal- 
cour,  our  young  Mexican  friend,  came  to  call  on 
us,  and  took  us  out  for  a  walk. 

The  cocktail  and  helmet  hat  have  both  invaded 
Mexico.  After  taking  a  cup  of  delicious  chocolate 
such  as  can  be  found  nowhere  else  than  in  Mexico 
—we  dropped  in  at  a  canlina  to  sample  the  bever 
ages  of  the  country.  While  sipping  a  mild  dilu 
tion  of  cognac,  I  heard  the  familiar  screech  of  a 
drunken  man  in  the  street,  and  a  moment  after  a 
young  Mexican,  in  a  helmet  hat,  burst  into  the 
room,  and  began  a  series  of  the  most  affectionate 
demonstrations.  He  was  frightfully  drunk — drunk 
enough  for  the  United  States.  He  embraced  the 
colonel,  and  fell  upon  P.'s  neck.  Then  he  threw 
a  hard  dollar  on  the  table,  and  insisted  on  a  drink 
all  around  writh  his  amigos  Americanos.  He  loved 
the  gringos  because  they  had  some  style  ab.out 
them.  We  got  away  as  quickly  as  \ve  could. 
"  What  has  that  man  been  drinking  ?"  I  asked  of 
Pedro,  who  speaks  a  little  English.  "  Cocktails  !  " 
he  replied.  The  cocktail  came  in  with  the  helmet 


64  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

hat  some  weeks  previous,  and  this  progressive 
Mexican  took  to  them  both.  Pedro  predicted  that 
he  would  sleep  in  the  deputacion,  a  prediction 
which,  as  we  learned  afterward,  was  verified.  I 
may  as  well  state,  however,  that  this  was  the  only 
howling  drunk  we  saw  in  Mexico. 

I  got  but  little  sleep  the  first  night  in  the  Hotel 
Comonfort.  There  was  a  niggardly  allowance  of 
bed  clothing,  and  my  first  experience  of  the 
boasted  climate  of  Mexico  was  anything  but  reas 
suring.  It  was  an  eager  and  a  nipping  air,  and 
the  great  ulster  which  I  had  taken  along  with 
many  misgivings,  proved  my  salvation.  There 
was  a  bell  in  the  church  of  the  Profesa,  just 
across  the  way,  which  began  ringing  about  four 
o'clock  and  kept  up  a  succession  of  sharp,  quick 
strokes,  with  a  few  minutes'  intermission  between 
each  attack,  until  six.  And  throughout  the  night 
the  policemen  broke  out  every  hour  with  a  long- 
drawn,  shrill  whistle.  The  Mexican  policeman 
is  the  sleepiest  of  his  kind.  During  my  stay  I 
rarely  saw  one  at  night  that  \vas  not  asleep.  He 
wraps  his  blanket  around  him,  sits  him  in  a  door 
way,  and  laps  his  gentle  soul  in  the  elysium  of 
dreams,  during  which  his  number  comes  from  the 
lottery  wheel,  and  for  a  few  brief  hours  he  is  a 
nabob.  I  suppose  they  must  take  turns  at  the 
whistle,  as  it  is  as  regular  as  clockwork. 

I  got  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  went  out 
alone  to  hunt  a  barber-shop  and  bath-room.  I 
found  the  barber  first,  a  grave  and  grizzled  man, 
with  an  evident  admixture  of  the  Indian  in  his 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  65 

blood.  He  sat  me  down  in  a  low  chair  without 
any  back,  in  front  of  a  mirror  ;  there  was  a  little 
table,  in  the  drawer  of  which  he  kept  his  imple 
ments,  the  lower  part  of  the  mirror  being  hidden 
by  folds  of  glazed  muslin.  I  had  to  stick  my  legs 
under  the  table,  and  "  scrooch  "  a  little  every  time 
he  went  to  the  drawer  for  the  implements  of  his 
diabolical  trade.  I  came  very  near  falling  into 
his  trap.  His  little  game  was  to  harrass  me  into 
stretching  my  legs  through  his  two-dollar  looking- 
glass,  and  then  charge  me  sixteen  dollars  for  the 
damage.  He  lathered  well,  and  I  began  to  be 
lieve  that  for  once  my  prescient  soul  was  apprehen 
sive  without  cause.  He  seized  my  nose  and  began 
to  rasp.  The  Mexican  razor  is  uniformly  dull, 
but  he  made  up  in  strength  what  it  lacked  in  edge. 
He  shaved  with  a  broad,  free  stroke,  cutting  up 
ward  where  a  United  States  barber  cuts  down,  and 
doing  everything  in  a  way  of  his  own.  I  set  my 
teeth  hard  and  breathed  a  silent  prayer.  Now 
I  thought  an  ear  would  surely  go.  That  peril 
passed,  I  would  have  paid  a  high  premium  to  in 
sure  mv  nose.  He  finally  got  through,  and  be 
yond  the  fright  I  was  none  the  worse.  Then  he 
held  a  soup  dish  rilled  with  lemon  juice  under  my 
chin,  sponged  my  face,  threw  a  towel  over  it,  and 
signified  that  I  might  finish  the  job  myself. 

At  the  bath-house  they  brought  me  a  little  cake 
of  soap,  which  looked  like  a  cracker,  two  tiny  bot 
tles  of  sweet-smelling  oleaginous  stuff,  and  a  wisp 
of  sea-grass  like  a  bird's  nest.  "  Camisa  calicnteT' 
inquired  the  attendant.  tfc  Si"  I  replied.  You  must 
5 


66  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

always  say  k'  Si  "  in  Mexico  whether  you  "  see  it17 
or  not,  as  it  impresses  the  attendant  with  the  idea 
that  you  know  what  you  are  about,  and  wall  not  be 
easily  swindled.  I  got  into  the  soft  hot  water  and 
gave  myself  up  to  the  luxury  of  the  bath,  all  the 
time  wondering  what  a  camisa  calicntc  was,  and 
feeling  a  sense  of  injury  because  he  had  not  brought 
it.  Coming  out  of  the  bath,  a  new  wonder  present- 
ed  itself — that  bird's  nest.  Of  the  two  vials  of  oil 
I  assumed  one  was  for  the  hair  and  the  other  for 
the  skin,  but  the  bird's  nest  puzzled  me.  Finally  I 
guessed  it.  It  \vas  to  be  used  as  a  flesh  brush,  and 
right  wrell  did  it  answrer  the  purpose.  I  had  about 
got  through  \vith  my  rubbing  and  scrubbing,  when 
the  attendant  came  and  brought  me  a  night-shirt 
which  had  been  warmed  at  the  fire.  This,  then, 
was  the  camisa  calientc,  but  its  use  puzzled  me. 
With  a  feeling  of  awe  I  hurriedly  dressed  and 
sneaked  out,  leaving  the  pesky  thing  neatly  folded 
up.  To  this  day  I  am  ignorant  as  to  what  I  ought 
to  have  done  with  it.  "  Ctianto,"  I  asked  of  the 
attendant.  He  told  me  just  how  much,  but  I  wasn't 
yet  up  in  the  matter  of  reals  and  medtos.  In  de 
spair  I  gave  him  three  quarters.  For  a  brief  mo 
ment  he  hesitated  between  the  temptation  to  de 
mand  more  and  the  impulse  to  be  content  with  \vhat 
I  had  given.  Then  he  thought  of  his  sainted 
mother,  and  writh  a  sigh  gave  me  back  one  quarter 
and  a  six-and-a-fourth  cent  piece. 

Mexico  is  not  a  willed  city,  though  most  people 
have  that  impression.  It  is  surrounded  by  ditches 
and  canals.  The  private  walls  which  are  found 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  67 

everywhere,  and  the  great  aqueduct  built  by  the 
Spaniards  a  hundred  and  thirty-eight  years  ago, 
often  confirm  visitors  in  the  erroneous  opinion  that 
it  is  walled.  It  has  a  population  of  about  two 
hundred  thousand,  less  by  a  hundred  thousand 
than  at  the  time  of  the  conquest.  Its  architecture 
is  massive  and  monotonous.  The  site  is  in  a  level 
plain,  once  the  bed  of  the  lake,  surrounded  by 
mountains.  Its  sky  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
year  is  of  the  purest  sapphire — the  clearest, 
brightest,  most  brilliant  blue,  with  not  a  cloud 
speck  to  be  seen,  though  a  haze  generally  hangs 
about  the  mountain  tops,  hiding  the  peaks  and 
bases  of  Popocatapetl  and  Ixtaccihuatl.  Now 
and  then  this  haze  is  swept  off,  and  for  an  entire 
day  the  two  snow  mountains,  which  are  distant  a 
full  day's  journey,  seem  no  more  than  five  miles 
away,  while  the  nearer  ranges  are  almost  within 
rifle  shot.  On  these  rare  occasions  the  view  from 
the  cathedral  tower  is  worth  a  journey  round  the 
world  to  see.  With  the  exception  of  the  fires  of  the 
charcoal  burners  which  dot  the  mountain  sides, 
there  is  nothing  to  cloud  the  air.  Mexico  burns 
little  fuel.  The  patient  mule  furnishes  the  motive 
power  for  her  few  manufactories,  and  there  are  not 
a  hundred  stoves  or  grates  in  the  entire  city.  A 
very  little  charcoal  in  an  open  brazier  is  made  to  do 
a  great  deal  of  cooking,  and  no  fuel  save  that 
which  may  be  acquired  at  the  drinking  houses  is 
needed  for  heating.  The  city  is  badly  drained. 
Originally  a  lake,  with  canals  for  streets,  and  an 
occasional  solid  causeway,  its  site  is  now  a  morass, 


68  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

with  the  water  but  a  few  feet  below  the  surface. 
Its  boasted  climate  is  peculiar — you  freeze  on  one 
side  of  the  street  and  roast  on  the  other. 

The  ratified  air  affects  some  people  very  dis 
agreeably.  After  a  week's  residence  you  feel  as 
if  you  had  been  baked  in  a  lime-kiln  until  every 
particle  ot  moisture  had  been  expelled.  Eyes, 
nose,  mouth,  lips  and  throat  are  parched.  Some 
visitors  are  unable  to  sleep.  Climbing  a  single 
flight  of  stairs  takes  away  your  breath,  and  you 
have  to  sit  down  at  the  top  and  gasp.  As  for 
health,  the  death-rate  is  higher  than  that  of  Vera 
Cruz.  Typhoid  fevers  are  almost  epidemic  the 
year  round,  and  pneumonia  runs  a  rapid  and  gen 
erally  fatal  course.  The  old  residents  seem  pe 
culiarly  susceptible  to  colds,  and  spend  most  of 
their  leisure  time  in  putting  on  and  off  their  over 
coats,  and  getting  out  of  the  way  of  drafts.  Their 
existence  is  a  nightmare,  and  yet  they  will  over 
whelm  you  with  eulogies  of  their  "delightful  cli 
mate."  The  surroundings  are  lovely  in  spots. 
There  are  beautiful  roadways,  lined  with  trees,  and 
statuary  and  stone  benches  at  intervals.  Where 
the  land  is  irrigated  it  is  marvelously  green  and 
fresh,  but  in  other  places  it  looks  dry  and  parched, 
and  in  spots  the  receding  lake  has  left  saline  and 
alkaline  wastes  where  no  sprig  of  vegetation 
grows.  The  ditches  are  covered  with  a  green 
and  purple  confervoid  growth.  Everywhere  the 
eucalyptus  tree,  imported  by  Maximilian,  shoots 
its  graceful  spire  toward  the  sky.  In  former  times 
the  city  was  subject  to  overflow.  A  lion's  head  at 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  69 

the  corner  of  St.  Francis  and  Holy  Ghost  streets 
marks  the  height  of  the  last  serious  inundation, 
about  fifty  years  ago.  The  head  is  seven  or  eight 
feet  from  the  ground.  At  this  time  there  was  seri 
ous  talk  of  removing  the  city  to  the  high  ground 
about  Tacubaya  and  Chapultepec,  but  a  lucky 
earthquake  let  out  the  water,  and  since  then  the 
lake  has  almost  entirely  disappeared.  It  is  a  curi 
ous  city,  inhabited  by  a  curious  people.  They  shoot 
their  emperors,  hang  their  pictures  on  the  palace 
walls,  and  educate  their  children.  They  divide 
their  loving  admiration  between  Iturbide's  por 
trait  and  the  quaint  old  flint-lock  muskets  with 
which  they  did  him  to  death.  The  government  is 
a  republic  modified  by  despotism.  It  is  a  nation 
of  incongruities.  Caste  is  cruel,  and  democracy 
ostentatious.  Politeness  that  means  nothing  is  op 
pressive.  The  millionaire  who  lights  his  cigarette 
from  a  naked  Indian's  -puro  utters  his  "  mil  gra- 
cias,  Senor"  with  an  air  of  sincerity  that  carries 
conviction,  and  bows  with  a  courtly  grace  that  is 
enchanting.  He  will  tell  you  that  his  house,  his 
horse,  his  purse,  his  everything,  is  yours  ;  but  it  is 
merely  a  pleasant  fiction  which  has  become  sanc 
tified  by  antiquity.  He  would  be  inexpressibly 
shocked  and  grieved  if  you  were  to  take  him  at 
his  word. 

Mexican  law  is  one  of  those  things  that  no  fel 
low — not  even  a  clairvoyant — can  find  out.  When 
the  authorities  want  to  do  anything,  they  can  al 
ways  rake  up  a  law  to  suit  the  case  from  their  legal 
junk  shop,  or  if  they  can't  find  one  entire,  they  will 


7O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

take  broken  pieces  and  patch  up  one  to  suit.  They 
have  an  assorted  lot  of  laws  laid  away  for  emer 
gencies  ;  and  yet  they  have  some  crude  ideas  of 
justice  which  might  be  serviceably  adopted  by 
more  civilized  communities.  A  dead-beat  may  be 
jugged  in  Mexico,  while  with  us  he  is  cock  of  the 
\valk.  If  you  are  beaten  out  of  money  or  prop 
erty  by  a  s\vindler,  you  can  put  him  in  jail  and 
keep  him  there.  In  fact,  you've  got  to  keep  him 
there,  because  if  he  gets  out  the  very  first  thing  he 
does  will  be  to  slap  you  in.  The  only  safe  way  to 
let  a  fellow  out  of  jail  is  to  make  him  give  bond, 
with  approved  security,  that  he  wrill  not  retaliate. 
Mexico  is  the  only  city  in  the  world  that  has  sub 
dued  its  hack-drivers.  Some  of  them  have  coun 
tenances  that  would  insure  a  verdict  of  guilty  on 
most  any  charge,  but  you  never  hear  of  their  rob 
bing  passengers,  or  attempting  to  over-charge 
them.  Fifty  cents  an  hour  is  the  established  rate, 
and  I  never  heard  of  one  demanding  more.  A 
trifle,  pour  boire,  is  usually  thrown  in  as  a  gratuity. 
Neither  are  they  noisy  and  insolent  as  in  other 
cities.  They  never  yell  at  each  other  in  passing. 
Their  reticence  and  general  good  behavior  inspired 
me  with  awe.  But  Mexican  la\vs  are  stringent, 
and  are  mercilessly  enforced  against  the  lower 
classes.  The  silence  of  the  population  seems  phe 
nomenal  to  an  American.  In  the  market  places 
there  is  no  loud  talk.  Even  the  donkey-drivers 
admonish  their  puny  beasts  with  a  \vhispered 
"tehee!" 

The    deportment    of    the    Indian    population    is 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  71 

quiet  and  accords  with  the  sad  gravity  of  their 
faces.  Indeed,  the  more  I  see  of  this  people,  the 
less  credence  I  give  to  tales  that  are  told  of 
their  indolence  and  treacherous  cruelty.  So  far 
from  being  lazy  they  are  the  hardest  workers  I  ever 
saw.  A  Mexican  Indian's  spine  must  be  a  curious 
piece  of  mechanism.  You  see  hundreds  and  hun 
dreds  of  them  coming  in  every  morning  from  the 
surrounding  villages,  loaded  like  pack-mules,  with 
fruit,  vegetables  and  other  articles.  They  travel 
at  a  swinging  dog  trot,  and  will  come  a  distance 
of  ten  or  twelve  miles,  carrying  burdens  that  do 
not  weigh  less  than  three  or  four  hundred  pounds. 
And  they  are  not  large  men,  either.  Stone,  lum 
ber,  charcoal,  and  other  bulky  materials  are  car 
ried  on  the  backs  of  men  and  donkeys.  There 
are  few  carts.  Licensed  carriers,  wearing  leath 
ern  helmets  and  a  leather  armor  with  their  number 
•on  it,  are  seen  everywhere.  Four  of  them  will 
pick  up  a  great  piano  and  trot  entirely  across  the 
city  with  it  in  less  time  than  you  could  hitch  up  a 
dray  and  haul  it.  The  water  from  the  aqueduct 
is  deposited  in  fountains  in  different  parts  of  the 
city,  and  these  carriers  distribute  it  among  the 
houses.  Their  honesty  is  such  that  they  are  al 
lowed  to  enter  houses  without  watching.  At  each 
trip  the  carrier  leaves  a  little  red  bean,  and  by 
these,  settlement  is  made  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
Everything  is  done  by  hand,  and  labor-saving  ma 
chinery  is  regarded  as  a  robbery  of  the  poor.  The 
streets  are  cleanly  swept  every  night  by  squads 
of  men  armed  with  little  bundles  of  twigs.  The 


72  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

scrupulous  cleanliness  of  the  streets  and  parks,  and 
the  absence  of  coal  dust  in  the  air,  is  more  than 
counteracted  by  the  horrible  tilth  of  the  ditches 
in  the  suburbs. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OUR  first  day  in  Mexico  was  spent  in  aimless 
floundering,  trying  vainly  to  get  started.  First 
there  were  the  colonel's  shoes  to  be  attended  to. 
Being  a  large,  heavy  man,  the  effect  of  walking 
over  cobble  stones  in  a  pair  of  short  shoes  may  be 
imagined.  He  had  been  recommended  to  a  shoe 
maker  named  Ribham,  in  the  Calle  de  something 
or  other,  who  would  build  an  addition  on  them  that 
would  give  his  great  toe  surcease  of  sorrow. 
Through  the  street  of  the  silversmiths  we  went, 
and  then  through  the  street  of  the  shoemakers,  in 
hot  pursuit  of  Mr.  Ribham.  Of  course  no  other 
shoemaker  knew  of  such  a  man,  and  they  all  said 
the  job  couldn't  be  done.  The  colonel  d — d  them 
in  robust  Anglo-Saxon  for  a  set  of  pepper-eating ,, 
leather-mangling  dunderheads.  He  knew  it  could 
be  done,  because  an  American  shoemaker  had  told 
him  it  was  feasible.  An  American  dentist  had  told 
him  the  truth  about  the  possibility  of  replanting  a 
tooth,  and  now  he  believed  in  the  reliability  of 
American  judgment  in  mechanical  matters.  Finally 
a  bright-eyed  boy  professed  to  know  where  Rib- 
ham's  shop  was,  and  started  to  lead  us  thither.  He 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  73 

took  us  through  another  street  of  shoemakers,  past 
signs  of  the  "Blue  Boot,'1  and  the  "Pretty  Little 
Red  Boot,"  and  a  score  of  other  endearing  and 
seductive  titles.  As  he  passed  each  shop  the  lit 
tle  scoundrel  would  closely  scan  our  countenances 
as  we  read  the  signs,  to  see  if  he  had  stumbled  on 
the  right  place.  Finally  he  boldy  led  us  in  the  last 
shop,  with  the  confident  assertion  that  that  was  the 
place.  The  colonel  held  a  quarter  between  his 
thumb  and  finger,  and  was  about  to  drop  it  into  the 
expectant  palm  of  the  little  ruffian  when  he  happened 
to  read  an  interior  sign  which  bore  the  legend,  "  M. 
Gradt."  He  held  his  quarter  a  little  longer  and 
inquired  for  Mr.  Ribham.  They  didn't  know  him 
and  had  never  heard  of  him.  The  colonel  turned 
on  that  boy,  and  in  his  usual  vigorous  Anglo-Saxon 
gave  him  a  concise  "  piece  of  his  mind."  He  held 
the  gleaming  coin  up  before  his  eyes,  and  impressed 
it  on  his  youthful  mind  that  he  should  never  clutch 
it.  He  hated  a  liar.  But  he  couldn't  expect  any 
thing  better  of  a  descendant  of  the  savages  who 
shot  Maximilian.  And  then  we  started  again.  We 
would  go  into  stores  and  inquire  if  they  parley- 
voo'd  Francaise,  or  German,  or  English,  and  make 
further  inquiries  for  Ribham.  Finally  we  got  on 
his  trail  again,  and  after  weary  wandering  for  a 
half  hour,  and  enjoying  the  delightful  confusion 
which  comes  from  the  Mexican  system  of  giving  a 
street  a  fresh  name  every  square  or  two,  we  found 
Mr.  Ribham's  place,  but,  alas  !  he  had  moved.  A 
pretty  little  French-speaking  woman  gave  us  accu 
rate  directions,  but  the  colonel's  dogged  pertinacity 


74  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

was  exhausted,  and  he  acknowledged  himself  dead 
beat.  On  our  way  to  the  hotel,  however,  we  passed 
another  shoe  shop,  in  the  window  of  which  was  a 
pair  of  slippers  made  of  the  furred  skin  of  some 
wild  animal.  The  beauty  of  the  workmanship  at 
tracted  our  attention,  and  once  more  we  entered. 

The  shoemaker  was  an  intelligent  brown  fellow 
with  a  German  wife,  who  talked  fluent  French  and 
acted  as  interpreter.  They  didn't  know  Ribham, 
but  on  learning  the  nature  of  the  job  required,  the 
shoemaker  unhesitatingly  announced  his  ability  to 
do  it.  The  colonel  was  delighted  to  find  a  couple 
who  had  confidence  in  themselves,  and  to  whom 
he  could  make  himself  understood.  He  explained 
to  the  madame  that  he  had  suffered  inexpressible 
"douletir"  on  account  of  those  shoes,  and  returned 
once  or  twice  after  having  started  to  again  impress 
it  on  the  shoemaker  to  be  sure  and  make  them 
long  enough.  Our  next  exasperation  was  trying 
to  find  the  colored  coachman  who  had  brought  us 
from  the  depot,  and  who  could  speak  English.  We 
had  his  address,  but  couldn't  find  the  location, 
and  none  of  his  accursed  competitors  would  direct 
us  there.  Finally  the  colonel  gave  one  of  them  a 
half  dollar  to  go  and  fetch  him.  He  did  bring  a 
black  fellow,  but  he  couldn't  speak  a  work  of  Eng 
lish.  Finally  we  got  on  the  trail  of  an  English 
man  named  Hawthorne,  who  keeps  a  coach  and 
acts  as  guide,  and  were  driven  to  his  house  in  the 
Second  Providencia.  He  was  not  at  home,  but  his 
wife,  a  wholesome  English  woman,  assured  us  he 
would  soon  be  in.  She  informed  us  that  she  made 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  75 

the  mince  and  mutton  pies  for  the  American  and 
English  residents  in  the  city,  while  her  husband 
acted  as  coachman  and  guide.  Presently  Haw 
thorne  himself  came  in — a  fine-looking,  stalwart 
Englishman,  in  a  duck  roundabout,  corduroy  trou 
sers  and  cavalry  boots.  We  soon  struck  a  bargain 
with  him — $6  per  day  for  his  coach  and  a  Mexican 
driver,  and  his  own  services  as  guide  and  interpre 
ter.  We  kept  him  during  the  rest  of  our  stay,  and 
the  colonel  was  so  well  pleased  with  him  that  he 
took  him  with  him  to  Havana  and  through  Central 
America. 

Having  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  fum 
ing  and  fretting,  we  concluded  to  utilize  the  re 
mainder  by  making  a  call  on  Dr.  Harris  at  his 
suburban  residence,  No.  6  Buena  Vista,  near  the 
San  Cosme  gate.  Taking  a  street-car  at  the  plaza 
we  rode  to  the  doctor's  place,  but  being  apprehen 
sive  that  it  wras  a  little  too  early,  we  strolled  into  a 
Jar  din  des  Plantes  just  opposite,  kept  by  an  in 
telligent  German.  He  had  flowers  of  all  kinds, 
and  thousands  of  eucalyptus  and  fruit  trees  ;  but 
wrhat  interested  me  more  than  anything  else  was 
his  display  of  orchids.  Of  these  he  had  eighty 
different  varieties,  a  dozen  or  so  of  »wThich  wrere  in 
bloom.  The  beauty  of  these  plants  is  beyond  de 
scription.  They  were  attached  to  blocks  of  \vood, 
each  block  cut  from  the  tree  which  the  particular 
orchid  might  happen  to  prefer,  and  hung  up  like 
picture  frames  on  the  wall,  where  they  grew  and 
flourished,  drawing  their  sustenance  from  the  air. 
Certainly  they  can  get  little  nutriment  from  the 


76  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

dry  blocks  of  wood  to  which  they  are  attached. 
The  florist  informed  us  that  he  had  sent  a  lot  of 
these  orchids  to  the  great  exposition  in  St.  Peters 
burg.  They  happened  to  get  there  in  good  condi 
tion,  and  attracted  much  attention.  The  govern 
ment  was  so  well  pleased  that  it  voted  him  an 
annual  pension  of  two  hundred  roubles,  on  condi 
tion  that  he  would  each  year  send  a  lot  of  orchids 
to  their  exposition.  Mexico  is  the  home  of  the 
orchid.  In  the  number  of  varieties  and  the  beauty 
of  individual  specimens  it  can  beat  the  world.  In 
the  hot  moist  lands  the  more  gorgeous  specimens 
are  found,  but  the  mountains  are  also  full  of  them. 
Miss  Anna  Harris,  one  of  the  doctor's  daughters, 
(of  whom  he  has  four)  is  making  a  painted  collec 
tion  of  the  orchids  of  Mexico,  and  proposes  to 
publish  a  large  book,  with  costly  colored  plates, 
descriptive  of  them.  She  is  a  talented  artist;  in 
fact  three  of  the  doctor's  daughter's  are  painters, 
one  excelling  in  portraits,  the  other  in  landscapes, 
while  Anna's  genius  has  its  best  field  in  the  accu 
rate  and  faithful  representation  of  plants  and  flow 
ers.  The  work  will  be  large  and  costly,  but  no 
professional  or  amateur  florist  in  Europe  or  Amer 
ica  can  afford  to  be  without  it,  and  every  lover  of 
flowers  will  want  it. 

In  strolling  about  the  florist's  grounds  we  found 
some  gnarled  and  twisted  trees  which  looked  as  if 
they  might  have  been  sturdy  saplings  when  the 
Aztecs  founded  their  capital.  The  colonel,  who 
has  seen  olive  trees  in  Syria,  Spain,  Italy  and 
France,  was  quite  sure  they  were  olives.  I  picked 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  77 

up  some  of  the  fruit  which  lay  under  one  of  them, 
and  bit  into  one  of  the  specimens  to  see  what  a  fresh 

olive  tasted  like.     I'll  never  do  it  again.     It  was  a 

& 

blasted  olive,  and  I  spat  and  sputtered  for  the  rest 
of  the  day  in  the  vain  effort  to  get  the  taste  out  of 
my  mouth.  It  was  like  a  pill  of  socotrine  aloes 
'and  quinine,  with  a  little  tallow  to  make  it  hang 
together.  The  member  of  the  Kentucky  legisla 
ture  who  offered  a  .$25  reward  at  the  Gait  House 
for  the  man  who  salted  "them  plums"  wras  not 
half  so  disgusted.  A  little  further  on  we  found 
about  ten  bushels  of  olives  spread  out  to  cure  for 
the  oil  press.  The  colonel  assured  me  that  these, 
which  had  not  been  stung  by  the  curculio,  were 
not  bitter — and  I  took  his  word  for  it.  After  hav 
ing  exhausted  the  attractions  of  the  florist's  we 
crossed  over  to  the  doctor's,  and  a  venerable  Mex 
ican  who  had  been  twenty-five  vears  in  his  service 
answered  a  punch  of  the  pneumatic  bell  from  the 
colonel's  cane.  The  doctor  lives  in  a  beautiful 
place,  embowered  in  flowers,  embellished  with 
fountains,  and  ornamented  with  eucalyptus  and 
other  trees.  There  were  great  beds  of  violets  that 
loaded  the  air  with  their  delicate  perfume,  and 
roses  everywhere.  The  Mexican  roses,  however, 
have  no  smell.  The  house  is  Spanish  in  exterior 
— thick  walls,  flat  roofs,  cream-colored  stucco, 
grated  windows  and  all — but  in  the  interior  it  is 
American.  It  has  grates  and  chimneys,  carpets 
and  American  furniture.  The  doctor  is  one  of 
those  Mexicanized  foreigners  who  spend  half  their 
leisure  time  in  eulogizing  the  Mexican  climate  and 


78  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

the  other  half  in  putting  on  and  oft'  their  overcoats 
and  shawls.  Eternal  vigilance  in  hunting  drafts 
has  made  him  as  nervous  and  excitable  as  a  wo 
man.  If  there  is  anything  he  hates  worse  than  a 
draft  it  is  a  forced  loan.  He  says  he  came  to  Mex 
ico  to  recover  his  health,  and  to  escape  the  hurly- 
burly  of  American  life,  and,  as  the  fellow  who 
tried  the  whistling  cure  for  stammering  jerked  out 
between  whistles,  "you  can  see,  stranger,  it  has 
done  it.'1 

About  five  years  of  the  twenty-seven  he  has  lived 
in  Mexico  have  been  spent  in  a  state  of  siege,  with 
contending  factions  holding  different  sections  of 
the  city,  and  firing  six  pounders  at  each  other  from 
the  towers  of  the  churches.  There  would  be  an 
intermission  until  ten  o'clock  every  morning  for 
the  people  to  go  to  market,  and  then  the  signal 
gun  would  warn  all  the  non-combatants  to  hunt 
their  holes,  and  trouble  wrould  begin  again.  Six 
months  of  this  calm  and  restful  existence  was 
enough  to  make  one  forget  the  hurly-burly  of 
American  life,  and  we  saw  the  good  effects  of  it 
in  Dr.  Harris.  He  reminded  me  of  nothing  so 
much  as  that  excitable  piece  of  fireworks  called  a 
serpent,  which  jerks  itself  in  forty  different  direc 
tions  in  as  many  seconds.  One  morning  while  the 
doctor  was  up  on  the  roof  of  his  house,  building  a 
furnace  to  be  used  in  his  profession  of  dentistry,  he 
observed  a  Mexican  soldier  in  a  neighboring  tower 
regarding  him  with  an  unusual  degree  of  interest. 
The  fighting  was  going  on  all  around  him,  but  the 
doctor  paid  no  attention,  for  they  generally  re- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  79 

spected  non-combatants  ;  but  the  intentness  of  this 
iellow's  stare  finally  suggested  to  him  that  he  had 
better  retire.  Before  he  had  time  to  carry  put  this 
determination,  the  soldier  raised  his  rifle,  and  sent 
an  ounce  of  lead  whizzing  through  his  hair.  Oh, 
this  Mexican  life  is  very  restful. 

We  had  some  music  from  the  girls,  examined 
their  paintings,  strolled  through  the  grounds,  and 
spent  an  agreeable  afternoon.  The  colonel  was  so 
delighted  with  a  Mexican  song  called  "  Las  Penas 
de  Corazon  "  (Pains  of  the  Heart)  that  he  pre 
vailed  upon  the  girls  to  sing  it  again,  and  the  next 
day  hunted  it  down  to  send  to  a  lady  friend  in 
London.  It  is  a  peculiar  composition,  the  music 
wailing,  and  the  words  hot  as  Mexican  chile.  We 
left  Dr.  Harris's  with  the  impression  that  he  has  a 
little  local  paradise  of  his  own,  but  that  we  would 
not  care  to  live  in  it.  The  high  walls  surrounding 
the  grounds  and  the  barred  windows  are  all  too 
suggestive  of  a  prison.  At  six  o'clock  the  faith 
ful  servant  is  sent  home,  the  gates  closed,  the 
drawbridge  lowered,  and  until  three  o'clock  the 
next  afternoon  nobody  can  get  in.  They  may  ring 
the  bell  to  all  eternity,  but  nobody  will  respond. 
This  restful  life  of  Mexico  has  its  little  drawbacks. 

The  Mexican  women  of  the  lower  strata  have 
three  great  industries — rubbing  corn  into  paste  for 
tortillas,  peddling  lottery  tickets  and  washing 
clothes.  The  corn  for  the  tortillas  is  first  soaked  in 
alkaline  water  to  soften  it  and  remove  the  husk,  and 
is  then  rubbed  on  a  flat  stone,  with  a  stone  pestle 
held  in  both  hands  like  a  rolling  pin,  until  it  is  con- 


8O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

verted  into  soft  pulp,  in  which  condition  it  is  spread 
into  thin  cukes  and  baked  without  salt.  The  re 
sult  is  the  tortilla  plain  and  simple,  a  tough  flap 
jack  which  a  hungry  man  would  be  culpable  to 
throw  over  his  shoulder,  but  which  a  well-fed  gringo 
is  not  apt  to  hanker  after.  The  tortilla  enchilada  is 
a  plain  tortilla  embellished  with  a  compound  of  pep 
per,  tomatoes  and  garlic,  and  made  into  a  conve 
nient  roll.  Making  tortilla  paste  seems  to  be  a  so 
cial  and  gregarious  employment,  or  it  may  be  that 
certain  establishments  keep  the  tools,  and  rent  them 
for  a  price.  At  least  I  always  found  from  one  to  a 
dozen  women  in  every  room  where  the  preparation 
of  the  corn  was  going  on,  all  rubbing  for  dear  life, 
and  rubbing  with  care.  Lottery  selling  is  done  on 
a  commission,  and  the  sellers,  both  male  and  fe 
male,  confront  you  at  every  turn.  The  wailing  cry 
of  "  jQuatro  mil  pesos  !  "  is  eternally  ringing  in  your 
•ears.  Everybody  buys  lottery  tickets.  These  peo 
ple  are  so  very  poor,  and  their  condition  is  so  ut 
terly  hopeless,  that  one  can  scarcely  blame  them  for 
seizing  even  upon  the  most  desperate  chance  of 
emerging  from  it.  One  day  a  rather  good-looking- 
young  woman,  whose  audacity  had  been  reinforced 
by  numerous  draughts  of  pulque,  tackled  me  in  the 
street,  and  begged  a  medid  "  for  the  love  of  God." 
On  being  asked  what  she  wanted  with  it,  she  inno 
cently  replied,  "  To  buy  a  lottery  ticket."  Such 
refreshing  candor  was  not  to  be  resisted  ;  I  hope 
she  drew  one-sixteenth  of  the  capital  prize.  Na 
tives  complain  that  foreigners,  who  buy  tickets  just 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing  and  don't  need  the  money, 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  8 1 

draw  all  the  big  prizes — another  instance  of  the 
cruelty  and  capriciousness  of  fate.  The  washing  is 
mostly  done  in  the  open  air.  You  see  hundreds  of 
women  strung  along  the  banks  of  the  ditches  and 
canals  engaged  in  this  laborious  work,  while  their 
naked  children,  with  round  staring  eyes  and  pro 
truding  abdomens,  roll  in  the  dust.  The  women 
sit  on  their  knees  on  the  bank,  reach  forward  and 
dip  the  clothes  in  the  water,  and  then  rub  them  on 
a  flat  stone.  No  more  painful  and  uncomfortable 
position  could  be  devised,  but  your  Mexican  is  aw 
fully  conservative,  and  very  much  in  favor  of  doing 
everything  as  it  has  been  done  for  the  last  five  hun 
dred  years.  The  surface  of  the  water  in  all  these 
ditches  is  completely  covered  with  a  purple  conferva* 
while  the  banks  are  hideously  filthy,  and  the  legs 
of  an  occasional  dead  dog  or  cat  are  seen  sticking 
up  through  the  scum  ;  but  beneath,  the  water  is 
found  comparatively  clear.  Besides  the  women 
engaged  in  these  three  leading  industries  many  of 
them  compete  with  the  men  in  their  capacity  of 
beasts  of  burden,  and  carry  loads  that  would 
make  a  pack-mule  groan.  Not  infrequently  you  see 
a  slender  wroman  carrying  a  pannier  full  of  fruit 
on  her  back,  with  a  child  tied  up  in  her  rcbosa  in 
front,  and  maybe  a  full  basket  on  one  arm.  The 
rebosa  is  a  long  wide  scarf  which  the  Mexican  wo 
men  wind  about  the  head  and  across  the  bosom, 
thus  making  it  answer  the  purpose  of  both  shawl 
and  hat.  Almost  every  woman  you  meet  either 
carries  a  baby  swung  in  the  folds  of  her  shawl  or 
else  shows  that  she  is  in  the  line  of  promotion. 
6 


82  TRIP    TO    MKXICO. 

Girls  who  seem  but  children  themselves  have  babies 
of  which  thev  are  proud,  though  perhaps  it  would 
be  difficult  to  muster  a  husband  for  inspection  if 
suddenly  called  on.  Women  of  the  middle  class 
seem  to  have  little  to  do  but  sit  at  the  windows  in 
the  afternoon,  embroider  a  little,  gabble  a  good 
deal,  look  demure  and  flirt  with  any  audacious 
gringo  who  may  kiss  his  hand  to  them. 

The  women  of  the  upper  class  dress  themselves 
in  gorgeous  array  in  the  afternoon,  put  on  a  be 
wildering  quantity  of  laces  and  diamonds,  and  shut 
themselves  in  close  carriages  to  be  driven  along 
the  paseo,  past  the  statues  of  King  Charles  and 
Christopher  Columbus,  on  the  Chapultepec  road, 
then  to  turn  and  go  over  the  ground  two  or  three 
times  more.  Women  of  high  social  position  are 
usually  attended  by  wonderful  masculine  creatures 
of  the  genus  caballero.  One  soon  learns  in  Mex 
ico  to  address  a  working  man  as  hombre,  and  to 
call  a  man  in  a  higher  walk  of  life  Senor.  But 
when  you  want  to  be  particularly  deferential,  it  is 
"  the  cheese"  to  call  him  caballero.  The  caballero 
of  the  pasco  is  a  gaily-bedizened  creature.  He  is 
dressed  in  the  extremest  agony  of  the  national  cos 
tume — gold-corded  jacket  and  slashed  pantaloons, 
\vith  buttons  of  silver  ;  tremendous  sombrero,  with 
its  awful  band  of  gold  cord  ;  saddle  and  bridle 
richly  ornamented  with  gold  and  silver,  and  a  keen 
rapier  in  a  buff  leather  scabbard  at  his  side.  He 
can  ride  well,  and  could  fight  a  bull  in  the  ring, 
but  his  principal  use  is  to  gallop  alongside  of  my 
lady's  carriage,  and  talk  at  her  through  the  open 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  83 

window.  That  rapier  inspires  a  gringo  with  whole 
some  respect.  The  caballcro  is  chivalric  in  his 
bearing,  and  his  mouth,  an  occasional  glimpse  of 
which  crops  out  from  beneath  his  waxed  mustache, 
has  a  chronic  set,  indicative  of  a  high  order  of  per 
sonal  courage.  But  I  understand  that  when  one 
of  these  bravos  has  occasion  to  travel  in  a  dili 
gence,  he  puts  on  the  plainest  apparel,  divests  him 
self  of  his  ultimate  weapon,  and  when  called  upon 
by  the  brigands  to  "  shell  out,"  lies  flat  on  his  face 
while  they  go  through  him.  If  they  can  attach 
themselves  to  a  party  of  Englishmen  or  Americans, 
however,  with  Winchester  rifles  and  the  nerve  to 
use  them,  they  go  through  with  flying  colors. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  church  power  is  thoroughly  broken  in  Mex 
ico.  What  Juarez  began  in  the  confiscation  of* 
church  property  Lerdo  finished  in  the  expulsion  of 
the  Sisters  of  Charity.  The  latter  measure  strikes 
even  the  Protestant  conscience  as  a  hard,  brutal 
expedient,  but  it  was  probably  needed  to  complete 
the  work  that  Juarez  began.  As  the  women  of  the 
South  kept  the  fires  of  rebellion  in  full  blaze  long 
after  the  men  would  have  faltered  and  fainted,  so 
did  these  saint-like  fanatics  keep  alive  in  the  hearts 
of  the  common  people  a  dangerous  spirit  of  resist 
ance  to  the  encroachments  of  the  government  on 


84  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

what  they  deem  sacred  things.  In  no  country  on 
earth  is  there  greater  freedom  of  religious  thought 
and  action  than  in  the  large  cities  of  Mexico  at  the 
present  time.  To  such  an  extent  has  the  revolu 
tion  been  carried  that  religious  processions  are  for 
bidden  by  law,  and  the  priesthood  are  prohibited 
from  appearing  in  public  in  the  peculiar  costume — 
black  gown  and  immense  shovel  hat — which  they 
used  to  wear.  In  the  olden  time  the  common  people 
Avould  prostrate  themselves  in  the  dust  when  a  pro 
cession  passed,  and  the  foreigner  who  didn't  get 
down  of  his  own  accord  was  pretty  apt  to  be 
knocked  down  ;  but  now  no  body  pays  any  more 
attention  to  a  priest  than  to  any  other  man.  They 
generally  wear  a  plug  hat  and  long  circular  cloak 
of  black  cloth,  with  the  right  skirt  thrown  over  the 
left  shoulder.  Some  of  the  younger  of  them  pre 
sent  a  rather  jaunty  appearance.  The  first  I  sawr 
I  mistook  for  a  lawyer  ;  the  next  I  put  down  as  a 
monte  dealer,  while  the  third,  who  was  older  and 
fatter,  I  was  sure  was  a  cabinet  minister.  The 
priests  are  poor  now.  The  churches  have  been 
despoiled  of  their  magnificent  revenues,  and  the 
priests  no  longer  get  any  assistance  from  the  state  ; 
but  thev  stick  manfully  to  the  work.  The  com 
mon  people  seem  to  be  very  devout.  You  rarely 
enter  a  church  that  you  don't  rind  scores  of  poor 
laborers,  many  of  them  not  having  clothes  enough 
on  them  "to  wad  a  shot-gun,"  kneeling  before 
the  shrine  of  their  favorite  saint,  and  pouring  out 
their  starved  and  stunted  souls  in  an  intensity  of 
devotion  which  seems  incomprehensible  to  us  bar- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  05 

barians  of  the  north  when  unassociated  with  the 
excitement  of  the  Methodist  mourner's  bench.  In 
this  silent  worship  the  devotee  has  none  of  the 
spurs  that  are  necessary  with  us  to  goad  the  slug 
gish  fancy  into  a  canter.  There  is  no  pealing  of 
the  organ,  no  eloquent  exhortation  from  the  lips  of 
the  minister.  Having  delivered  his  load  of  char 
coal  or  fruit,  the  peon  drops  in  on  his  way  home, 
gets  upon  his  knees,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
is  oblivious  of  everything  save  his  worship.  As 
you  sit  and  watch  this  human  beast  of  burden  with 
his  clasped  hands,  closed  eyes  and  lips  in  tremu 
lous  motion,  you  may  believe  him  ignorant  and 
fanatical,  but  you  cannot  believe  him  insincere  or 
hypocritical. 

Everywhere  we  mingled  with  these  people  at 
their  devotions.  We  strove  to  avoid  offense  as 
much  as  possible,  but  through  ignorance  we  doubt 
less  shocked  them  many  times  by  an  apparent 
want  of  reverence  for  what  they  consider  sacred. 
But  beyond  a  pained  and  hurt  look  now  and  then, 
they  made  no  sign.  It  is  not  likely  that  a  party 
of  Mexicans,  having  as  little  veneration  for  our 
religion  as  we  had  for  theirs,  could  take  the  same 
liberties  in  our  churches,  without  unpleasant  con 
sequences.  So  far  as  I  could  see,  the  Methodists 
are  becoming  the  most  intolerant  and  arrogant  of 
all  sects  in  Mexico.  They  are  determined  to 
make  the  most  of  the  "religious  toleration"  which 
has  been  established.  They  are  aggressive,  and 
they  push  their  outposts  into  the  interior.  Every 
now  and  then  they  appeal  to  the  government  for 


86 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 


protection.  We  called  upon  Dr.  Butler,  the  gen- 
eral-in-chief  of  the  proselyting  army.  He  could 
give  us  but  little  time,  as  he  had  an  appointment 
with  President  Diaz  at  three  o'clock.  On  the  suc 
ceeding  Sunday  a  new  church  was  to  be  dedica 
ted  in  a  neighboring  village,  and  the  "fanatics" 
had  announced  that  if  dedicated  at  all  it  would  be 
dedicated  in  "  torrents  of  blood."  The  local  au 
thorities  had  been  appealed  to,  but  declined  to  act, 
and  the  doctor  had  carried  the  matter  to  the  Pres 
ident  himself.  It  was  quite  inspiriting  to  witness 
the  gusto  with  which  the  oily  old  gentleman  told 
of  the  troubles  in  his  "little  church  around  the 
mountain."  He  rubbed  his  hands  together  enthu 
siastically  as  he  dwelt  on  the  "torrents  of  blood," 
and  manifested  a  holy  impatience  to  be  skinned 
and  scalped  in  the  Master's  service.  For  my  part 
I  didn't  take  the  least  bit  of  stock  in  the  "  torrents 
of  blood."  From  what  I  had  seen  of  the  stolidity 
of  the  average  Mexican  "fanatic,"  and  his  gen 
erally  subdued  and  broken-down  demeanor  in 
religious  and  political  matters,  I  didn't  believe  he 
could  be  kicked  into  a  revolt.  So  far  as  I  could 
learn  but  little  real  progress  has  been  made  in 
proselyting  Mexicans.  Some  adult  converts  have 
been  gathered  into  the  fold,  but  a  converted  Mexi 
can  has  about  the  same  numerical  value  as  a  con 
verted  Jew,  and  we  all  know  how  to  rate  the 
latter.  Numerous  orphans  have  been  educated  in 
Methodism,  and  they  are  sincere  believers.  But 
honest  adult  converts  are  scarcer  than  hen  teeth. 
You  might  as  well  try  to  change  the  color  of  a 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  87 

Mexican's  skin  as  his  religion,  and  with  due  de 
ference  to  Dr.  Butler,  I  do  not  think  it  is  desirable 
to  change  his  religion.  Catholicism  can  do  more 
for  savage  people  than  protestantism,  and  the 
lower  class  of  Mexicans  are  still  at  least  half  sav 
age.  Some  of  the  means  employed  to  gain  a 
'"foothold  for  Christ"  are  at  least  questionable. 
On  the  wall  of  the  palace  fronting  the  plaza  are 
two  large  blackboards,  and  every  morning  there 
appears  upon  them  a  tirade  against  the  Catholic 
religion,  written  with  chalk  in  a  clear,  legible 
hand.  Multitudes  of  the  lower  classes  stop  and 
read  these  bulletins.  Some  read  and  pass  on 
without  making  any  sign  :  others  read  and  scowl ; 
while  some  smile  scornfully.  No  hostile  demon 
stration  is  ever  made. 

But  is  it  right  to  trample  the  religious  prejudices 
of  this  people  under  foot  in  this  offensive  manner  ? 
Is  it  not  a  shameful  abuse  of  toleration  ?  If  at  some 
future  time,  when  public  sentiment  is  more  inflam 
mable,  there  should  be  a  mob  in  the  city  of  Mexico, 
and  a  massacre  of  protestants  by  the  infuriated 
populace,  there  will  arise  a  terrible  howl  from 
every  protestant  pulpit  in  the  land.  I  would  be 
shocked,  along  with  the  rest  of  my  protestant 
brethren,  but  I  wouldn't  be  much  surprised.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  world  that  ignorant  people  hold 
so  dear  as  their  religious  beliefs,  and  nothing  for 
which  they  will  shed  blood  so  cheerfully.  If  I  had 
my  way  I  would  enjoy  my  own  religious  belief  and 
let  every  other  man  enjoy  his.  I  would  discour- 


88  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

age  meddlers  in  religion  as  well  as  in  everything 
else. 

As  the  question  of  recognizing  the  Diaz  govern 
ment  is  still  undetermined,  perhaps  the  deductions 
drawn  from  our  necessarily  superficial  observations 
may  not  be  uninteresting.  Porfirio  Diaz,  like  Ju 
arez,  is  an  Indian — not  a  full  blood,  perhaps,  but 
much  more  of  an  Indian  than  a  Castilian.  In  his 
younger  days  he  was  a  pretty  hard  case — one  of 
the  church  robbers  of  the  Juarez  administration. 
It  is  alleged  of  him  that  he  had  church  jewels  of 
great  value  set  in  the  backs  of  the  wooden  chairs 
which  formed  a  part  of  the  rude  furniture  of  his 
unpretentious  dwelling,  the  walls  of  which  were 
adorned  with  priceless  pictures  acquired  in  the 
same  manner.  But  he  is  undoubtedly  the  best 
soldier  in  Mexico  since  Miguel  Miramon  "  tum 
bled  "  to  the  racket  of  his  indignant  countrymen, 
along  with  Maximilian,  on  that  fine  June  morning 
in  1867 — a  fact  indubitably  proved  by  the  masterly 
manner  in  which  he  hustled  Lerdo  out  of  the 
country  in  the  late  unpleasantness.  The  more 
moderate  people  of  the  old  church  party  now  give 
Diaz  the  credit  of  being  honest,  and  it  is  gener 
ally  admitted  that  he  has  attained  a  nearer  ap 
proach  to  order  throughout  the  republic  than  any 
recent  president  has  done.  He  aims  to  conciliate, 
while  at  the  same  time  the  iron  hand  is  felt  beneath 
the  velvet  glove.  Regiments  of  troops  in  the  most 
startling  variety  of  uniforms  are  kept  moving  from 
point  to  point  about  the  capital,  while  all  the  neigh 
boring  towns  are  full  of  armed  men.  You  are 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  89 

never  out  of  hearing'of  the  ear-torturing  Mexican 
bugle.  The  soldiers  are  generally  a  hard-looking 
set,  but  they  are  armed  with  modern  weapons,  well 
drilled,  and,  under  the  comparatively  strict  disci 
pline  maintained,  will  fight.  If  the  malcontents  of 
the  Rio  Grande  border  succeed  in  their  nefarious 
designs  of  involving  us  in  another  war  with  Mex 
ico,  it  wAl  not  be  such  a  "walk  over"  as  Scott 
and  Taylor  found  it. 

The  arrrry  is  paid  regularly  ;  everybody  in  the 
government  service  is  paid  ;  and  there  is  money  in 
the  treasury — a  fact  almost  without  precedent  in 
Mexican  history.  The  poor  people  like  Diaz  bet 
ter  than  any  ruler  they  have  had  since  Maximilian, 
and  for  the  same  reason  they  liked  the  blonde  em 
peror — because  he  gives  them  security,  hears  their 
complaints  and  endeavors  to  have  justice  done  them. 
The  public  voice  is  almost  unanimous  in  saying  that 
Diaz  is  the  best  president  they  have  had  for  many  a 
year,  but  you  can't  alwavs  trust  the  public  voice  in 
Mexico.  Generally  the  fellow  who  is  in,  is  "the 
best  ruler  they  ever  had,"  and  even  while  they  are 
praising  him  they  may  be  preparing  to  blow  him 
out  of  the  country.  Some,  while  admitting  that 
Diaz  is  honest,  say  he  is  surrounded  by  the  same 
stripe  of  turbulent  adventurers  who  have  kept  the  re 
public  in  a  tumult  ever  since  it  had  an  existence,  and 
that  they  will  conspire  against  him  as  soon  as  they 
see,  or  think  they  see,  an  opportunity  of  furthering 
their  own  selfish  ends  by  so  doing.  As  far  as  sta 
bility  is  concerned,  the  Diaz  government  seems 
strong.  There  is  more  security  for  life  and  prop- 


90  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

erty  than  there  has  been  for  years.   Indeed  it  would 

•/  J 

be  hard  to  find  a  quieter  or  more  orderly  place  in 
any  country  than  the  city  of  Mexico.  Just  why 
there  should  be  any  hesitation  about  recognizing 
Diaz  as  president  of  a  country  in  which  fronuncia- 
mentos  are  as  plenty  as  thistles,  and  change  is  the 
rule,  is  a  conundrum  ;  but  influences  have  been  at 
work  to  retard  such  recognition.  To  me  the  Chris 
tian  name  of  the  president  always  had  a  disagreea 
ble  sound.  It  reminds  me  of  "perfidious."  Sin 
gularly  enough,  the  common  people  give  the  "  r" 
the  sound  of  'k  d,"  and  call  him  "Porfidio." 

Much  of  the  mercantile  business  of  the  city  of 
Mexico  is  carried  on  by  Germans.  There  are 
many  French  and  few  Americans  in  business. 
There  are  not  over  forty  English-speaking  resi 
dents.  Major  DeGress,  of  the  Armeria  Americana, 
does  a  flourishing  business  in  the  sale  of  pistols, 
carbines,  swords  and  other  cutlery.  Many  of  the 
pistols  are  enriched  with  a  barbaric  profusion  of  gold 
and  silver  ornaments,  and  are  sold  to  the  brigands 
of  the  mountain  roads,  who  get  their  money  easily 
and  part  with  it  freely.  The  major  says  his  shop 
is  an  unfailing  barometer  of  the  public  feeling. 
When  everything  is  quiet  he  sells  pistols  to  the 
common  people  and  dandy  swords  to  the  gallants 
of  the  paseo.  When  trouble  is  brewing  there  is  a 
brisk  sale  of  carbines.  The  bulk  of  the  trade  of 
Mexico  ought  to  be  done  by  Americans,  but  they 
have  permitted  the  Germans  and  French  to  cut  un 
der  them.  There  are  about  four  hundred  German 
residents  in  the  city,  and  the  effect  of  their  monop- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  9! 

oly  of  so  rich  a  field  is  shown  in  a  change  of  char 
acter  which  is  quite  in  contrast  to  the  staid,  thrifty 
Teuton  of  the  States.  The  Mexicanized  German 
is  "on  the  hurrah."  He  gets  drunklike  an  Amer 
ican,  buys  champagne  by  the  basket,  and  scatters 
his  money  with  a  reckless  profusion  which  would 
keep  his  own  father  from  knowing  him. 

We  visited  the  German  club  house  under  the 
lead  of  Mr.  Nieth,  and  found  it  an  immense  estab 
lishment,  with  all  the  club  features.  They  drink 
a  great  deal  of  Anheuser's  St.  Louis  beer  at  fifty 
cents  a  bottle,  but  it  is  not  so  good  in  its  imported 
condition  as  the  native  beer  at  a  real.  The  jewelry 
stores,  the  dry  good  stores,  the  tobacco  shops  and 
many  other  establishments,  all  have  a  gay  Parisian 
look.  Indeed  there  is  a  good  deal  of  luxury  in 
this  city  of  poverty.  At  the  Monte  de  Piedad— 
the  government  pawn-shop — we  saw  bushels  and 
bushels  of  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones  and 
valuables  of  many  kinds.  It  is  said  that  many  of  the 
first  families  put  the  family  carriage  in  paw^n  when 
they  want  to  redeem  their  diamonds  to  attend  a 
party,  and  then  repawn  the  diamonds  to  release 
the  carriage.  Many  valuables  are  left  here  for 
safe  keeping.  Money  is  loaned  on  long  time  at  a 
low  rate  of  interest.  The  Monte  de  Piedad  is  the 
only  institution  of  Mexico  that  has  not  at  some 
time  been  robbed.  All  the  various  revolutions 
have  spared  it.  It  is  true  that  Lerdo,  just  before 
he  ingloriously  ran  away  in  the  night,  leaving  the 
city  to  the  victorious  Diaz,  "lifted"  $25,000  out 
of  it,  but  he  claimed  that  it  belonged  to  the  govern- 


92  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

ment.  They  say  that  this  institution  loans  at  a 
lower  rate  of  interest  than  other  establishments, 
but  nobody  could  tell  me  why  the  common  people 
patronize  the  hundreds  of  low  pawn-shops  which 
confront  you  on  every  street  in  preference  to  the 
Monte  de  Piedad  when  they  want  to  raise  a  medio 
to  buy  a  lottery  ticket.  I  suspect  that  the  Piedad 
is  too  "toney"  for  them.  These  low  pawn-shops 
are  good  places  for  the  study  of  Mexican  nature. 
Nobody  is  so  poor  but  he  has  something  to  pawn, 
and  articles  are  received  and  money  loaned  on 
them  which  our  "  starving  poor "  would  not  pick 
up  in  the  street. 

Quite  naturally  I  was  interested  in  the  newspa 
pers  of  Mexico.  There  are  plenty  of  them,  but 
they  are,  typographically  and  editorially,  queer 
specimens.  They  have  neither  local  nor  tele 
graphic  news  to  speak  of,  but  are  ponderous  in  the 
way  of  "leader"  and  literary  lore.  The  absence 
of  local  news  is  a  distressing  feature.  You  scan 
their  pages  in  vain  for  accounts  of  fires,  murders, 
public  meetings,  reviews  of  troops,  political  meet 
ings,  court  reports,  or  any  other  events  which  with 
us  go  to  make  up  the  local  columns.  A  bull  fight, 
if  it  is  a  good  one,  is  eulogized  to  the  extent  of  a 
dozen  lines.  If  a  poor  one,  the  Monitor  of  Mon 
day  will  dismiss  it  with  a  paragraph  like  the  fol 
lowing :  "The  bull  fight  at  Tlalnepanlta  on 
yesterday  was  mala  malissima"  There  are  no 
theatrical  criticisms,  no  notices  of  coming  events. 
The  editors  sit  in  their  offices  two  or  three  hours  a 
day,  and  evolve  from  their  seething  brains  incon- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  93 

sequential  paragraphs  about  nothing  in  particular. 
They  do  manage  to  collect  a  little  news  from  the 
interior,  either  by  working  over  their  exchanges  or 
interviewing  the  drivers  of  the  diligences,  but  if 
anything  ever  happens  in  the  city  it  is  studiously 
suppressed.  Events  in  which  the  President  takes 
a  part,  like  the  distribution  of  prizes  at  the  Acad 
emy  of  Arts,  are  briefly  noticed,  but  a  last  year's 
almanac  answers  the  purpose  of  an  "  abstract  and 
brief  chronicle  of  the  times"  quite  as  well  as  a 
Mexican  daily,  fresh  from  tht  press. 

After  we  had  been  three  weeks  away  from  home 
without  hearing  anything  from  the  outside  world,  I 
began  to  be  a  little  anxious  about  the  war  in  Eu 
rope,  the  silver  bill,  Hayes'  policy  and  other  mat 
ters  ;  so  I  took  to  the  Mexican  papers  in  search  of 
telegraphic  ne\vs.  I  kne\v  that  there  was  a  tele 
graphic  line  from  the  United  States  to  the  city 
by  way  of  Matamoras,  and  remembered  to  have 
seen  a  boast  in  one  of  the  Mexican  papers  of  having 
published  a  dispatch  from  St.  Petersburg  which 
came  through  in  one  day.  For  four  days  I  looked 
in  vain.  On  the  fifth,  patient  perseverance  was  re 
warded.  In  the  Diario  I  found  two  dispatches  of 
about  three  lines  each.  One  was  from  London, 
announcing  that  the  relations  between  England 
and  Russia  were  still  "cordial,"  and  the  other 
chronicled  a  tremendous  fire  in  Greenville,  Missis 
sippi,  in  which  a  country  store  and  a  dwelling 
house  were  licked  up  by  the  "devouring  element." 
The  patronage  of  the  Mexican  papers  is  limited. 
The  Monitor, which  is  the  leading  "independent" 


94  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

paper,  boasts  of  the  enormous  circulation  of  2,500, 
and  is  admitted  on  all  hands  to  be  the  most  popu 
lar  and  influential  journal  in  the  republic.  Adver 
tising  patronage  is  small.  A  newspaper  is  the 
last  place  to  look  for  information  about  anything. 
The  book  and  pamphlet  publishing  business,  how 
ever,  is  better.  Much  of  the  information,  which  in 
the  United  States  seeks  an  outlet  through  the 
newspapers,  in  Mexico,  finds  its  way  to  the  public 
through  the  medium  of  a  book  or  pamphlet. 

The  newsboy  has  no  existence  in  Mexico.  Oc 
casionally  a  man  is  encountered  wailing  forth  the 
information  that  he  has  the  Monitor  for  sale,  but 
when  you  want  a  newspaper,  as  a  general  thing, 
you  have  to  get  out  a  search  warrant  before  you  can 
find  it.  The  Socialista  I  accidentally  stumbled  on 
one  morning  while  taking  chocolate  in  a  third-class 
fonda.  Its  editorials  are  of  the  jerky  character, 
which  seems  peculiar  to  journals  devoted  to  the 
rights  of  man.  The  number  I  saw  sneered  at 
"  strong  governments,"  and  demanded  to  know  if 
workingmen  were  slaves.  I  encountered  the  "  iron 
heel  "  of  despotism  twro  or  three  times  within  a  col 
umn,  and  then  butted  against  a  word  which  I 
couldn't  make  out.  It  was  used  in  connection  with 
"  capitalist,"  and  I  am  sure  it  must  have  been  the 
Spanish  equivalent  for  "bloated."  As  I  sat  there 
sipping  the  delicious  chocolate,  which  is  found  no 
where  save  in  Mexico,  and  nibbling  at  the  roll  of 
light,  sweet  bread,  a  contented,  home-like  feeling 
stole  over  me.  The  Two  Republics  is  an  excellent 
paper  considering  its  opportunities.  It  is  published 
by  Major  George  W.  Clarke,  one  of  the  incorrig- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  95 

ible  southern  refugees,  who  had  to  come  to  Mexico 
to  get  reconciled  to  the  old  flag.  The  Shakespearean 
Bugle  is  a  manuscript  paper,  published  by  the 
American  and  English  literary  society. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EVERY  American  who  visits  Mexico  must  see  at 
least  one  bull  fight.  He  never  wants  to  see  an 
other — unless  for  the  purpose  of  assuring  himself 
that  it  is  just  like  the  first.  P.  had  witnessed  the 
noble  sport  in  Mexico  thirty  years  ago.  The  col 
onel  had  seen  bull  fights  in  Madrid.  I  alone  had 
the  new  sensation  in  store  for  me.  Large  posters, 
announcing  a  bull  fight  at  Tlalnepantla,  the  pro 
ceeds  to  be  devoted  to  the  "'  payment  of  the  Amer 
ican  indemnity,"  covered  the  walls.  It  was  further 
announced  that  President  Diaz  would  be  present. 
A  balloon  ascension  served  to  inflate  the  attrac 
tions.  As  the  fight  would  come  off  in  the  after 
noon,  we  determined  to  put  in  the  forenoon  in  a 
drive  up  the  canal.  The  day  was  all  that  could  be 
desired — clear,  cloudless  and  balmy — and  as  we 
drove  through  the  southeastern  gate,  and  took  our 
way  alongside  of  that  wonderful  canal,  the  history 
of  which  was  a  matter  of  vague  tradition  when  the 
Spaniards  first  visited  the  capital,  I  never  felt  a 
keener  sense  of  purely  physical  enjoyment.  This 
canal  is  probably  forty  feet  broad  but  shallow.  It 


96  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

connects  Lake  Chalco  with  the  city,  and  is  used 
for  irrigation  and  for  the  transportation  of  produce. 
On  this  bright  Sunday  morning  it  teemed  with  busy 
life.  Hundreds  of -flat-bottomed  boats,  loaded  with 
great  stacks  of  green  clover,  fruits,  vegetables  and 
poultry,  dotted  its  surface,  being  "poled"  along 
by  bare-legged  natives,  in  the  old-fashioned  keel- 
boat  style,  while  here  and  there  some  velvet-jack 
eted  and  bell-buttoned  ranchero  lolled  lazily  in  the 
stern  of  a  more  luxurious  gondola,  propelled  by  a 
half-naked  peon.  A  courteous  salute  startles  the 
hidalgo  out  of  his  lazy  dream,  and  with  a  precipi 
tance  which  is  almost  indecorous,  he  removes  the 
cigarette  from  his  lips,  lifts  the  broad-brimmed  and 
heavily-silvered  sombrero,  and  returns  our  greet 
ing  with  an  effusive  politeness  that  is  almost  lu 
dicrous. 

The  roadside  is  dotted  with  villages,  some  of 
them  very  neat  and  clean,  and  all  of  them  having 
the  inevitable  church,  its  tiled  dome  glistening  in 
the  bright  sunshine,  and  its  floors  crowded  with 
kneeling  worshipers.  Now  and  then  a  peripatetic 
butcher  shop,  consisting  of  a  little  jackass  and  a 
saddle,  above  which  is  an  iron  framework,  upon 
each  of  its  half-dozen  hooks  hanging  a  sheep  or  a 
quarter  of  beef,  goes  by,  the  driver  jogging  along 
behind  the  patient  little  quadruped.  The  country 
is  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation,  and  a  piece  of 
ground  but  little  bigger  than. a  Brightwood  lot 
is  made  to  support  scores  of  men  and  beasts. 
We  come  to  a  point  where  a  Mexican  warns  us 
that  the  carriage  can  proceed  no  further  on  ac- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  97 

count  of  a  broken  bridge.  Our  driver  accuses 
him  of  having  purposely  "  fixed  "  the  bridge.  He 
calls  upon  all  the  saints  to  witness  that  he  did 
nothing  of  the  kind,  but  a  cunning  leer  in  his 
eyes  gives  color  to  our  guide's  accusations.  It  is 
a  common  practice,  we  learn,  for  the  shrewd  de 
scendants  of  Montezuma  to  play  these  little  tricks, 
so  as  to  get  a  chance  to  hire  their  boats.  A  dicker 
is  made  with  him  for  transportation,  and  soon  we 
are  in  one  of  the  broad-bottomed  boats,  and  being 
poled  rapidly  up  the  canal.  By  and  by  we  come 
to  the  famous  "floating  gardens."  If  they  ever 
did  float  they  no  longer  do  so.  Possibly  they 
shake  beneath  the  tread  in  the  rainy  season,  for 
this  entire  valley  is  a  morass  ;  but  in  the  dry  sea 
son  they  are  solid.  There  are  merely  bits  of  real 
estate,  probably  fifty  feet  wide  and  two  hundred 
long,  surrounded  by  ditches  wide  enough  to  ena 
ble  the  proprietor  to  circumnavigate  them  in  his 
canoe.  We  are  amazed  at  the  luxuriance  of  veg 
etation.  The  freshness  and  greenness  of  things — 
remembering  that  the  month  is  January,  and  in 
our  own  country  is  ice  and  snow — is  a  tireless  won 
der.  As  we  pass,  some  of  the  laborers  are  irrigat 
ing  by  throwing  water  over  their  plats  with  a 
wooden  shovel,  and  some  are  picking  vegetables 
for  market ;  for  in  this  country  labor  never  ceases 
with  the  poor,  except,  possibly,  on  feast  days.  By 
and  by  we  come  to  a  large  meadow  full  of  cattle, 
in  which  some  half-dozen  Mexicans,  in  full  cos 
tume,  are  practicing  with  the  lasso.  It  is  a  sight 
we  have  longed  to  see,  and  so  the  boat  is  landed, 
7 


98  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

and  we  start  across  the  lield  to  attain  a  point  for 
closer  observation.  The  expertness  of  the  Mexi 
cans  in  throwing  ihe  lasso  has  often  been  chroni 
cled,  and  has  been  but  little  exaggerated.  It  is  a 
deadly  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  robber,  as  well 
as  an  expert  means  of  discipline  in  the  hands  off  the 
herdsman.  These  fellows  would  select  a  bullock 
from  the  herd — they  wrere  all  moderately  fat  and 
in  good  condition  for  keeping  up  their  part  of  the 
sport — and  then  the  fun  would  begin.  While  at 
full  gallop  a  lasso  would  be  thrown  around  the 
bullock's  horns,  and  simultaneously  another  would 
fasten  on  a  hind  leg.  The  sudden  jerk  would  turn 
him  a  summersault  on  the  grass.  Rapidly  releas 
ing  the  ropes  by  stooping  from  the  saddle  at  full 
gallop,  the  beast  would  be  started  and  thrown 
again,  the  riders  all  the  time  keeping  up  a  fire  of 
jeering  epithets.  Finally  when  he  was  worn  out, 
another  victim  would  be  selected.,  and  the  same 
programme  gone  through*  with.  We  watched  the 
game  until  it  began  to  get  monotonous.  A  sug 
gestion  to  retire  was  somewhat  accelerated  by  the 
interest  a  vicious  black  bullock  began  to  take  in 
our  party.  He  had  been  lassoed  until  he  was 
disgusted,  but,  having  recovered  from  the  rattling 
they  had  given  him,  he  fancied  he  saw  in  our  dis 
mounted  party  an  opportunity  for  getting  even. 
With  many  pawings,  and  scrapings,  and  angry 
tossings  of  his  head,  he  began  to  approach.  We 
retired,  judiciously,  but  with  considerable  celerity, 
a  fortunate  trend  of  the  lassoing  party  in  the  direc- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  99 

tion  of  our  bovine  friend  having  made  a  diversion 

O 

in  our  favor. 

In  the  boat  once  more  we  were  poled  back  to  the 
point  where  the  carriage  had  been  left,  at  the  lit 
tle  village  of  Yxtacalco,  where  Hawthorne  had 
made  arrangements  for  a  Mexican  breakfast. 

The  feeding  at  the  restaurants  is  all  French,  and 
the  dishes  peculiar  to  the  country  are  not  to  be  had 
except  on  special  order.  While  waiting  for  break 
fast  we  strolled  into  a  -pulque  shop,  gaily  bediz 
ened  with  painted  figures  before  which  the  gaudy 
coloring  of  the  she  Justices  of  the  Peace  in  our  own 
two-million  court  house  would  pale  their  ineffectual 
fires.  Among  the  decorations  was  a  gorgeously- 
dressed  female  in  short  dancing  costume  holding 
out  a  glass  to  a  frisking  goat,  with  the  invitation  : 
"  Tomo  hijo  tu  -pulquito  ?"  The  goat  seems  to  hold 
the  same  place  in  relation  .to  Mexican  -pulque  that 
he  does  with  us  in  celebrating  the  peculiar  proper 
ties  of  bock  beer.  A  Mexican  colonel,  with  some 
of  the  inferior  officers,  had  selected  this  point  for  a 
Sunday  picnic,  and  an  advanced  force  of  privates 
had  been  all  morning  busily  engaged  in  decorating 
a  neighboring  shed  with  flowers  and  streamers  for 
the  fandango.  By  and  by  the  procession  came  up 
the  canal — two  large  flat-bottomed  boats,  with  a 
brass  band  in  active  eruption.  The  colonel,  black 
and  burly,  sat  on  a  sort  of  raised  platform,  sur 
rounded  by  his  seraglio,  and  the  other  officers, 
each  attended  by  their  female  partners,  were  near 
him.  The  band  landed  first,  formed  in  two  lines, 
and  through  the  lane,  under  a  triumphal  arch  dec- 


IOO  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

orated  with  flowers,  the  colonel  and  his  invited 
guests  passed.  It  was  a  gay  party. 

By  and  by  our  own  breakfast  was  brought,  and 
with  keenly  whetted  appetites  we  sat  down  to  it. 
There  was  rice  in  Mexican  fashion  ;  an  omelet ;. 
wild  ducks,  with  their  broad  bills  and  feet  left  on 
to  prove  it ;  tortillas  enchilada,  very  hot ;  a  capon 
with  sauce  of  chile  mulata,  very  black,  and  still 
hotter  ;  bread  of  the  country  and  fruit.  The  bread 
of  the  country  is  sweet  but  a  little  heavy — not 
nearly  so  good  as  the  delicious  French  bread  we 
get  at  the  restaurants.  Among  the  fruits  were  the 
avocado  pear,  a  pear-shaped,  marrowy  substance, 
which  makes  not  a  bad  substitute  for  butter. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  we  returned  to  the  city, 
after  a  most  delightful  morning.  Tlalnepantla, 
where  the  bull  fight  was  to  take  place,  is  nine 
miles  out.  A  train  of  twenty-eight  street  cars  con 
veyed  the  people  to  the  suburbs, where  a  steam  en 
gine  took  charge  of  the  train.  The  cars  were 
crowded,  and  a  great  many  wrent  in  carriages, 
while  thousands  of  the  poorer  classes  walked.  The 
admittance  was  one  dollar  on  the  shady  side,  fifty 
cents  in  the  sun.  I  told  the  gate-keeper  that  I  was 
an  American,  and  as  the  fight  was  for  the  benefit 
of  the  American  indemnity,  I  would  just  remit 
my  portion  of  the  indemnity  and  say  no  more 
about  it  if  he  would  remit  the  entrance  fee,  but  he 
said  it  wasn't  visible  to  the  Castilian  eye.  So  I 
contributed  my  dollar  to  the  American  indemnity, 
and  passed  in,  where  a  new  and  strange  scene 
opened  out  before  me.  The  amphitheater  is  ex- 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  IOI 

actly  like  that  of  the  old-fashioned  Kentucky  fair, 
-except  that  a  wooden  wall  protects  the  spectators 
from  the  onslaughts  of  the  bull. 

About  five  thousand  people  were  inside.  On 
the  sunny  side  were  gathered  the  riff-raff  of  Mex 
ico,  while  on  the  more  aristocratic  side  were  to 
be  seen  many  richly-dressed  ladies  with  opera- 
glasses,  and  well-dressed  gentlemen.  Peddlers 
passed  constantly  through  the  rows  of  seats,  selling 
plumes  of  colored  paper,  sweets,  fruit,  fulque  and 
other  refreshments.  An  old-fashioned  fire  bal 
loon,  about  half  inflated,  was  swaying  to  and  fro 
in  the  arena.  It  was  getting  late,  and  the  crowd 
was  becoming  impatient.  Hoarse  cries  of  "El 
Toro!"  rent  the  air,  while  thousands  of  throats, 
which  seemed  as  if  ready  to  split  with  the  tension, 
demanded  that  "El  Globo"  should  be  instantly 
taken  out.  They  did  not  care  a  cent  for  the  bal 
loon  ascension,  but  were  impatient  for  the  blood 
and  entrails  of  the  bull  fight.  The  uproar  became 
demoniac.  Well-dressed  gentlemen  on  the  shady 
side  of  the  amphitheater  roared  themselves  hoarse. 
By  and  by  the  aeronaut  came  out  and  inspected 
the  balloon.  If  he  had  ever  intended  to  make  an 
ascension,  it  was  now  evident  that  the  enterprise 
was  a  failure.  He  turned  to  seek  cover  again. 
Just  at  this  point  an  orange,  well-aimed  and  flying 
at  a  high  velocity,  smashed  itself  on  his  bullet 
head.  He  stood  not  on  the  order  of  his  going,  but 
went  at  once.  The  crowd  roared  with  laughter. 
Then  the  attendants  began  to  clear  the  balloon 
away.  Oranges,  bananas,  pomegranates,  bits  of 


IO2  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

sugar-cane  and  sweet  turnips  began  to  fly  like 
hail.  Then  the  little  fragile  earthen  pitchers,  used 
to  peddle  -pulqtie  began  to  follow,  and  by  and  by 
missiles  of  a  more  dangerous  character.  The 
boys  engaged  in  clearing  a\vay  the  balloon  and 
the  furnace  used  to  inflate  it,  took  the  storm  of 
missiles  good-humoredly.  When  anything  hit 
them,  they  looked  to  see  the  nature  of  the  pro 
jectile.  If  it  was  an  orange,  or  anything  eatable, 
they  chased  it  and  stowed  it  away.  If  something 
solider  and  more  indigestible,  they  simply  rubbed 
the  sore  place  and  went  on  with  their  work.  By 
and  by,  some  murderous  wretch  threw  a  heavy 
brandy  bottle  and  hit  a  little  boy  on  the  shoulder. 
Had  it  hit  him  in  the  back  of  the  head  it  would 
certainly  have  killed  him.  A  fulque  pitcher 
smashed  itself  on  the  head  of  a  full-grown  fellow, 
very  black  and  with  an  evil  countenance.  His- 
white  teeth  gleamed  as  he  turned  to  the  point  from 
whence  the  projectile  had  come,  and  with  features 
distorted  with  rage  that  seemed  truly  infernal,  he 
broke  out  in  a  storm  of  obscene  abuse.  He  was 
greeted  with  a  roar  of  derisive  laughter  and  a 
shower  of  missiles.  Dodging  the  pots  and  bottles, 
he  rammed  his  hand  in  his  pocket  as  if  to  clench 
a  pistol,  and  made  believe  he  was  going  to  shoot. 
The  audience  responded  with  more  missiles,  and 
he  finally  found  it  so  hot  that  he  had  to  bolt.  At 
this  point  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  an  instanta 
neous  hush  fell  upon  the  turbulent  assembly. 
There  seemed  to  be  some  difficulty  in  getting  the 
rst  bull  out  of  the  chute,  but  he  finally  came  with 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  1 03 

a  bound,  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  arena,  and 
took  an  astonished  survey  of  the  situation. 

He  was  a  little  brown  fellow,  and  did  not  seem  to 
be  particularly  vicious.  But  the  sight  of  the  mul 
titude,  the  banderillos  and  picadors,  began  to  tell 
on  him,  and  he  indicated  his  displeasure  by  a  vig 
orous  pawing  of  the  earth.  A  banderillo  ap 
proached  him,  and  shook  a  banner  in  his  face.  He 
made  a  vicious  lunge,  which  was  easily  dodged. 
A  picador,  mounted  on  a  sixty-cent  horse  whose 
flanks  were  protected  by  leathern  armor,  now  ap 
proached  him.  The  bull  made  a  lunge  at  the 
horse's  flank,  and  was  caught  on  the  point  of  a 
pike.  The  sharp  pain  was  more  than  he  bargained 
for.  He  went  tearing  around  the  ring  like  mad, 
occasionally  making  a  lunge  at  one  of  the  banderil 
los.  Then  the  darts  were  fastened  in  his  shoulder. 
This  is  an  operation  requiring  considerable  cour 
age,  skill  and  presence  of  mind.  A  banderillo  took 
a  dart  in  each  hand,  the  shaft  being  about  two  feet 
long,  and  covered  with  a  network  of  bright-colored 
paper ;  he  attracted  the  bull's  attention,  and,  as  he 
made  his  charge,  adroitly  reached  over  his  horns, 
planted  a  dart  in  either  side  of  his  neck,  and 
stepped  aside  in  time  to  avoid  the  tips  of  the  horns. 
Maddened  with  the  pain,  the  bull  tore  madly  about 
the  ring,  bellowing  loudly.  Finally  he  took  posi 
tion  on  the  soft  earth  where  the  furnace  for  inflat 
ing  the  balloon  had  stood,  and  no  amount  of  strat 
egy  or  aggravation  could  dislodge  him.  In  vain 
the  picadors  tempted  him,  and  in  vain  the  bander 
illos  flaunted  their  banners  in  his  face.  If  a  tempt- 


104  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

ing  chance  to  insert  a  horn  drew  him  a  few  feet 
from  his  place  of  refuge,  he  soon  retreated.  In  the 
meantime  the  matador  (a  little  cuss  dressed  up  like 
a  clown),  whose  duty  it  \vas  to  administer  the  final 
coup  dc  grace  to  the  bull  with  a  sword,  had  been 
monkeying  around  the  ring  to  no  purpose.  The 
audience  became  impatient,  and  a  hoarse  roar  for 
"  Un  Otro!"  went  up  from  a  thousand  throats. 
The  bull  had  funked,  and  must  give  way  to  an 
other.  He  had  done  no  harm  and  suffered  little. 
Once  or  twice  his  horns  had  touched  the  flanks  of 
the  equine  skeletons  ridden  by  the  picadors,  but 
the  protecting  leather  had  saved  their  miserable 
lives.  As  for  himself,  the  blood  was  streaming 
from  a  dozen  pike  wounds,  yet  he  was  not  seriously 
hurt.  But  it  is  the  rule  to  never  permit  a  bull  to 
leave  the  ring  alive,  unless  he  has  killed  a  man. 
The  trumpet  sounded,  and  we  waited  to  see  the  ma 
tador  take  his  sword  and  kill  the  toro.  But  that 
official  disdained  to  kill  so  tame  a  creature.  So 
two  caballeros,  mounted  on  good  horses,  rode  in. 
One  lassoed  the  bull  by  the  head  and  the  other  by 
the  hind  leg.  He  was  thrown  and  stretched  at  full 
length  in  the  dust. 

While  I  was  wondering  what  next,  a  fellow  ap 
proached,  drew  a  two-edged  dirk,  and  deliberately 
proceeded  to  drive  it  into  poor  toro's  spinal  col 
umn,  just  behind  the  horn.  My  soul  turned  sick 
\vith  horror  at  the  assassination.  The  body  was 
dragged  out  and  No.  2  came  in  with  a  bound. 
This  bull  was  a  better  specimen,  and  made  it  in 
teresting  for  the  performers.  Once  or  twice  he 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  1 05 

nearly  overturned  the  equine  skeletons,  and  once 
he  made  a  flying  attempt  to  leap  the  barrier  and 
get  at  the  audience.  One  of  the  banderillos  dis 
played  considerable  skill.  He  would  hold  his  ban 
ner  before  the  enraged  creature  and  avoid  a  series 
of  five  or  six  successive  lunges.  You  could  hardly 
see  how  it  was  done.  This  one,  too,  finally  had 
enough  of  the  pikes,  and  took  refuge  in  the  soft 
earth  and  could  not  be  coaxed  out.  Once  he  failed 
to  take  advantage  of  an  opportunity  to  get  even 
with  one  of  his  tormentors.  A  banderillo"  stepped 
on  a  round  stick,  which  turned  with  him,  and  he 
fell  flat  in  the  dust,  not  more  than  ten  feet  from  the 
bull.  The  party  of  the  first  part  happened  to 
be  engaged  in  watching  the  motions  of  a  picador 
just  then,  but  he  heard  the  fall,  and  turned  to  see 
what  it  was.  He  saw  his  opportunity,  but  a  little 
too  late.  By  the  time  he  got  there  his  agile  enemy 
was  on  foot  again.  This  bull  was  killed  in  the 
same  horrible  and  atrocious  manner  as  the  first, 
the  matador  disdaining  to  stain  his  sword  with  the 
blood  of  a  scrub.  No.  3  was  the  best  of  the  lot, 
and  after  a  gallant  fight  the  matador  was  called  on 
to  dispatch  him,  but  declined.  The  animal  wasn't 
quite  up  to  his  standard.  One  of  the  banderillos 
took  the  weapon,  and,  provoking  the  bull  to  sev 
eral  charges,  made  a  number  of  thrusts  at  its  heart, 
but  failed  to  reach  the  vital  spot.  After  which  it 
was  lassoed,  stretched  and  butchered  like  the  rejj:. 
No.  4  was  but  a  repetition  of  the  experiences.  No. 
5  was  turned  over  to  the  rabble.  They  sprang  over 
the  barriers  by  scores,  and  soon  the  ring  was  full. 


IC)6  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

They  shook  their  ragged  blankets  in  the  bull's  face, 
and  dodged  his  charges  like  the  regular  lighters 
had  done.  Finally  one  ragamuffin  seized  the  bull's 
tail,  and  in  less  than  a  second  you  could  not  see  that 
bull  for  the  human  flies  that  covered  him.  They 
held  him  by  the  nose,  the  neck,  the  tail,  the  horns, 
and  a  half  dozen  mounted  his  back.  Finally  the 
tail-hold  was  suddenly  released,  and  the  bull  shook 
off  his  tormenters.  There  was  another  chase  and 
another  capture.  At  this  point  we  left  to  secure  a 
seat  in  the  train.  Alas  !  We  were  too  late.  There 
was  not  room  for  a  grasshopper.  Fortunately  we 
found  a  coach,  and  after  a  two  hours'  drive  over 
the  road  by  which  Cortez  retreated,  by  the  arbor 
triste,  we  reached  the  citv. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  standard  "  show  places  "  about  Mexico  had 
to  be  visited,  of  course.     But  as  many  pens  "  more 

abler  "  than  mine,  as  Uncle  J would  say,  have 

described  them,  I  will  deal  gently  with  the  erring 
reader  who  follows  me  through  these  straggling 
"Notes."  We  did  the  great  cathedral,  and  saw 
its  immense  railings  of  silver  and  gold  ;  its  beauti- 
fjf"  pictures  ;  its  onyx  basins  for  holy  water ;  its 
gorgeous  gilding ;  its  massive  architecture ;  its 
great  bells,  and  its  rude  wooden  doors  which  would 
disgrace  a  Pennsylvania  barn.  From  its  towers  we 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  1 07 

saw  the  loveliest  panorama  in  the  world — Popocat- 
apetl  and  the  "  White  Lady,"  Chapultepec,  Molino 
del  Rey,  Guadalupe,  Taeubaya,  and  the  city  itself 
— spread  out  before  us  like  a  map.  From  this  alti 
tude  we  got  a  glimpse  of  the  housetop  life  of  the 
Mexicans.  Some  of  the  flat  terraces  were  con 
verted  into  blooming  gardens,  while  on  others  cook 
ing,  washing,  clothes-drying,  and  other  industrial 
pursuits  were  being  carried  on.  We  visited  the 
museum  and  saw  the  Aztec  weapons,  idols,  picture 
writing  and  the  great  Sacrificial  Stone,  on  which 
sixty  thousand  human  beings  are  said  to  have  been 
offered  up  to  appease  the  god  of  war.  With  the  re 
membrance  of  Prescott's  description  fresh  in  my 
mind  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  smell  the  stench  of  the 
sacrificial  blood4in  the  air.  Through  that  trench 
cut  in  the  face  of  the  stone  what  a  flood  of  human 
blood  has  flowed,  as  the  priests  tore  the  reeking 
heart  from  the  breasts  of  the  victims  !  But  hold  ! 
The  iconoclast  is  after  the  Sacrificial  Stone.  He 
says  the  trench  cut  from  the  center  to  its  periphery, 
and  supposed  to  have  been  used  to  convey  the 
blood,  was  an  after-thought,  and  he  proves  it,  or 
thinks  he  proves  it,  by  calling  attention  to  the  fact 
that  it  divides  the  hieroglyphical  characters  with 
which  the  entire  surfaces  of  the  stone  are  inscribed. 
But  it  is  not  my  fight.  We  visited  the  Palace,  the 
Monte  de  Piedad  and  the  postoffice.  We  saw 
Guadalupe,  the  via  sacra  along  which  penitents 
used  to  crawl  on  their  hands  and  knees  to  propitiate 
the  Virgin  ;  the  blanket  of  Juan  Diego  upon  which 
the  Virgin  imprinted  her  image,  now  framed  as  a 


io8 


FKIP    TO    MEXICO. 


picture  ;  the  iron  baths,  the  waters  of  which  taste 
like  those  of  Saratoga.  Penon  de  los  Banos  was 
not  neglected.  It  is  a  volcanic  hill  of  almost  solid 
iron  ore,  covered  with  a  poisonous  cactus  burr,  the 
sharp  spines  of  which  work  their  way  through  the 
stoutest  leather  into  the  flesh.  In  caves  around  the 
base  of  the  hill  dwell  the  ladrones,  nominally  em 
ployed  in  making  saltpetre  from  the  nitrous  earth 
which  abounds,  but  ready  to  engage  in  any  nefar 
ious  work  which  promises  pelf.  The  daylight  vis 
itor  can  get  oft'  with  a  moderate  donation  in  the 
shape  of  backshccsh.  One  of  them,  a  lusty,  bare 
legged  and  bare-footed  fellow  with  the  agility  of  a 
mountain  goat,  fastened  himself  on  our  party  and 
insisted  on  showing  us  over  the  hill. 

On  being  asked  how  he  escaped  getting  his  bare 
feet  full  of  the  cactus  spines  while  our  boots  bris 
tled  like  fretful  porcupines,  he  answered,  with  a 
droll  laugh,  that  he  "kept  his  eyes  open."  It  is 
said  that  when  a  fresh  revolution  is  "on,"  three 
hundred  rifles  come  out  of  Penon.  Near  by  are 
the  hot  baths.  An  outlet  from  the  internal  fires  of 
Popocatapetl  boils  up  here,  and  the  waters  are  in 
high  repute  for  the  cure  of  rheumatism  and  skin 
diseases.  The  buildings  are  old  and  massive,  and 
the  various  chambers  seem  like  caves.  There  are 
no  accommodations  for  patients  save  coarse  food. 
Occasionally  one  comes  out  for  a  week's  treatment, 
bringing  his  bedding  with  him  ;  but  the  solitude 
and  the  surroundings  are  enough  to  counteract  the 
benefits  of  the  waters.  It  is  a  wild,  ugly  place,  and 
I  should  want  to  have  an  iron-clad  throat  to  be 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  I  Op 

caught  there  after  nightfall.  There  is  a  ruined 
chapel  attached  to  the  establishment,  on  the  walls 
of  which  hang  some  really  meritorious  pictures, 
slit  in  numerous  places  by  knife  thrusts  and  bayo 
net  stabs.  Chapultepec  was  also  visited,  with  its 
great  spring,  its  giant  cypress  trees,  under  one  of 
which  was  Montezuma's  favorite  loafing  place,  and 
other  curiosities.  Our  guide  was  a  former  servant 
of  Mr.  Barron,  and  he  took  us  through  his  place 
at  Tacubaya.  Barron  is  one  of  the  English  build 
ers  of  the  railroad.  He  spent  near  a  million  of 
dollars  in  converting  a  volcanic  hill  into  an  earthly 
paradise.  The  house  is  furnished  like  an  empe 
ror's  palace,  and  many  an  art  gallery  has  a  poorer 
show  of  pictures.  Some  of  them  are  genuine 
Murrillos,  each  one  of  which  cost  a  prince's  ran 
som.  No  visitor  ever  leaves  Mexico  without  mak 
ing  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Arbor  Triste.  It  is  a  great 
cypress  tree,  possibly  a  thousand  years  old,  at  the 
little  village  of  Popotla,  a  few  miles  from  the  city. 
Here  it  was  that  the  lion  heart  of  Hernan  Cortez 
gave  way  as  he  gathered  the  pitiful  remnant  of  his 
command  about  him  after  the  disastrous  retreat  of 
La  Noche  Triste.  The  causeway  along  which  the 
Spaniards  retreated,  assailed  on  every  side  by  hun 
dreds  of  thousands  of  Indians,  whose  distorted 
faces  were  lighted  up  by  the  glare  of  the  temple 
fires,  is  now  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  Mexico, 
and  the  exact  spot  where  Alvarado  made  his  great 
leap,  is  pointed  out  to  the  tourist.  Tradition  says 
that  having  for  the  time  baffled  his  pursuers,  Cortez 
hitched  his  horse  to  a  drooping  limb  of  this  gigan- 


, 


IIO  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

tic  tree,. and  wept  like  a  child.  It  is  a  sad  wreck 
of  its  former  self — a  gnarled  and  twisted  shell,  the 
core  of  it  having  been  eaten  out  by  lire.  There 
are  two  stories  of  its  misfortune.  One  is  that  In 
dians  built  a  fire  to  cook  their  tortillas,  and  another 
is  that  Maximilian  and  some  friends  were  admir 
ing  it  one  day,  and  a  malicious  scoundrel  fired  it 
purposely,  for  no  other  reason  than  because  the 
emperor  derived  pleasure  from  looking  at  it. 
Though  a  mere  shell,  the  sap  still  circulates  through 
its  surface  veins,  and  the  leaves  are  green.  Since 
the  fire  the  government  has  built  an  iron  railing 
about  it — another  instance  of  locking  the  stable 
after  the  horse  is  stolen. 

While  we  were  looking  at  the  venerable  tree, 
and  trying  to  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  little  band 
of  conqtiistadores  who  gathered  under  it  on  that 
disastrous  night,  a  young  Indian  woman,  with 
arms  and  legs  that  Venus  would  envy  and  a  face 
of  which  the  devil  would  be  ashamed,  came  and 
offered  us  fresh  pulque. 

Modesty,  as  we  understand  it,  is  a  plant  that 
doesn't  seem  to  thrive  in  the  rarified  atmosphere  of 
Mexico.  The  lower  classes  discharge  the  functions, 
which  Henry  Ward  Beecher  says  were  imposed  on 
man  for  his  humiliation,  without  the  least  sense  of 
shame,  and  in  the  most  public  places.  Maximilian 
made  a  determined  effort  at  reform  in  this  particular, 
and  succeeded  to  a  great  extent  in  rescuing  the  city 
from  the  most  offensive  forms  of  indecency  ;  but  a 
drive  along  any  one  of  the  great  highways  will  re 
veal  enough  in  a  single  morning  to  establish  the 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  Ill 

fact  that  modesty  is  not  the  crown  jewel  of  Mexican 
character.  It  is  the  law  of  compensation.  You  see 
all  around  you  the  sublimest  landscape  in  the 
world,  its  rugged  features  softened  by  a  lavish  dis 
play  of  flowers  and  vegetation.  Perhaps  the  speci 
mens  of  living  statuary  which  line  the  roadside  are 
needed  to  remind  us  that  we  are  still  human — that 
the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  all.  In  their  love- 
making  Mexicans  are  equally  innocent  of  any  sus 
picion  of  the  impropriety  of  public  demonstrations. 
You  see  couples  walking  through  the  crowded  plaza 
with  their  arms  about  each  other's  necks,  totally 
oblivious  of  their  surroundings.  Except  among 
foreigners,  such  exhibitions  excite  no  comment. 
Driving  along  the  Guadalupe  road  one  afternoon, 
we  came  upon  a  strapping  fellow  seated  by  the 
roadside,  with  a  young  girl  lying  beside  him,  her 
head  resting  in  his  lap.  As  we  passed,  she  turned 
her  face  up  to  his,  reached  upward,  and  with  a 
shapely  hand  patted  the  impassive  brute  on  his  lan 
tern  ja\v — he  all  the  time  gazing  stolidly  at  the 
passing  carriage.  "You  dog!  "  roared  the  exas 
perated  colonel.  But  the  dog  maintained  his  equa 
nimity  all  the  same.  At  another  time,  while  riding 
out  to  the  iron  baths  on  a  street  car,  \ve  encountered 
a  young  couple  bedecked  in  gay  holiday  ribbons 
and  clean  clothes,  walking  down  the  broad  road 
way  with  their  arms  lovingly  clasped  about  each 
other's  necks.  She  was  young  and  quite  hand 
some,  and  he  was  young  and  carried  in  his  unoc 
cupied  hand  a  pitcher  of  pulque,  stray  drops  of 
which  were  sprinkled  along  the  road.  Evidently 


112  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

a  couple  of  lovers  returning  from  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe,  slightly  the 
worse  for  their  potations.  Their  arms  were  twined 
about  each  other's  necks  for  mutual  support  as  well 
as  to  demonstrate  their  affection. 

They  walked  pretty  steadily,  however,  though 
\vith  that  obliviousness  of  demeanor  which  we  see 
in  more  civilized  drunkards  when  they  try  to  play 
it  on  the  people  and  think  they  are  succeeding. 
We  watched  our  two  lovers  from  the  rear  of  the 
car,  and  saw  their  steps  grow  gradually  unsteady 
until  they  began  to  totter  and  weave.  After  drink 
ing  a  half  dozen  glasses  of  the  effervescent  water 
fresh  from  the  bubbling  spring  we  took  another 
street  car  for  the  city.  We  had  forgotten  all  about 
our  two  lovers  until  we  came  upon  them,  again 
lying  prone  upon  the  ground  by  the  roadside,  their 
arms  still  lovingly  intertwined,  and  their  cheeks 
together,  the  pitcher  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  a 
tortuous  streak  of  moist  earth  showing  where  the 
pulque  had  meandered  awray.  I  may  as  well  state 
once  more,  however,  that  helpless  drunkenness  is 
an  uncommon  sight  in  Mexico,  notwithstanding 
the  oceans  of  pulque  consumed  every  day.  Once 
I  saw  a  half-naked  Indian  lying  on  his  face  in  the 
street  in  front  the  plaza,  dead  drunk.  The  coach 
men  considerately  drove  around  him,  the  herds  of 
panniered  asses  stepped  tenderly  to  one  side,  and 
no  one  seemed  to  think  the  sight  worthy  of  com 
ment.  On  another  occasion  an  old  gray-headed 
woman,  bare-armed  and  bare-legged,  with  a  petti 
coat  of  blue  stuff  about  her  body,  tottered  on  the 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  113 

sidewalk  in  front  of  me,  gave  a  lurch  and  pitched 
headlong  into  the  street.  She  had  a  few  little  trinkets 
wrapped  up  in  a  handkerchief, which  were  scattered 
in  the  fall.  Rising  upon  her  knees,  she  began 
groping  blindly  about  to  recover  them.  I  have  never 
seen  a  more  pathetic  sight,  or  one  that  left  a  deeper 
impression,  unless  it  was  that  of  a  poor  fellow 
whom  I  saw  the  morning  after  mv  arrival.  He 
was  thin  of  limb  and  face,  and  seemed  less  intelli 
gent  than  the  average  "greaser."  His  entire 
wardrobe  consisted  of  what  looked  like  a  piece  of 
worn-out  rag  carpet  tied  around  his  trunk,  and  re 
inforced  at  the  hips  with  a  bit  of  old  leather  tied  on 
with  strings.  Hat,  shirt,  coat,  pantaloons  and 
shoes  he  had  none.  He  had  a  little  bundle  of 
sticks,  scarcely  more  than  you  could  grasp  in  one 
hand,  tied  up  with  a  cord,  and  was  kneeling  on 
the  pavement  to  readjust  the  fastenings.  He 
looked  so  utterly  and  hopelessly  miserable — he 
was  so  shamefully  and  squalidly  poor — it  made  me 
sick  at  heart.  The  poor  devil  submitted  stolidly  to 
a  critical  inspection,  and  seemed  stricken  dumb 
when  I  gave  him  a  quarter.  By  and  by  he  recovered 
his  tongue,  and  began  an  eloquent  invocation  of  all 
the  saints  in  my  behalf,  which  lasted  until  I  got 
out  of  ear-shot,  and  may  be  running  yet  for  aught 
I  know. 

The  Mexican  women  of  the  lower  classes  are  ex 
empt  from  the  special  diseases  which  embitter  the 
lives  of  their  more  civilized  sisters.  None  of  them 
have  "weak  backs"  and  kindred  ailments.  The 
modiste  who  would  attempt  to  fit  a  silk  dress  to  one 


1 14  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

of  their  forms,  would  have  no  use  for  cotton  or 
other  padding.  In  Mexico,  canary  seed  is  devoted 
to  its  legitimate  use.  Many  a  high-born  dame 
would  give  her  hopes  of  salvation  for  the  develop 
ment  which  is  so  lavishly  displayed  by  the  tortilla 
grinders  of  Mexico.  Civilization,  coupled  with  a 
slavish  subservience  to  idiotic  and  murderous  fash 
ion,  would  doubtless  soon  reduce  them  to  the  help 
less  condition  of  our  own  hot-house  flowers.  But 
must  civilization  necessarily  carry  with  it  the  curse 
of  disease?  One  noticeable  feature  of  Mexican  life 
is  the  absence  of  little  girls  of  the  better  class  from  the 
streets.  The  ninas  seem  to  be  all  caged  in  schools, 
and  are  jealously  guarded  until  they  are  grown  to 
be  young  ladies  and  safely  married.  Now  and 
then  we  pass  a  couple  of  dark-eyed  senoritas  in  the 
plaza,  guarded  by  a  fat  old  duenna,  with  an  eye 
that  bores  through  you,  and  firm-set  lips  that  be 
speak  a  temper  not  to  be  trifled  with.  She  is  called 
duenna  because  she  wron't  let  the  girls  in  her 
charge  "duennathing  "  in  the  flirtation  line  unless 
she  is  well  paid  for  it.  The  colonel,  who  has  trav 
eled  in  Spain,  watches  his  opportunity,  intercepts 
a  glance  from  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  when  the  old 
ogre  happens  to  be  off  guard,  and  gallantly  kisses 
his  hand.  The  little  lady  looks  mischievously 
pleased,  and  at  the  next  turn  gives  him  a  cautious 
smile  over  her  left  shoulder. 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SUGAR  is  one  of  the  staple  products  of  Mexico. 
In  the  hot  lands  the  cane  matures  much  better  than 
in  Louisiana.  The  sugar  we  find  in  the  city  is 
hard  loaf,  whitish  gray  in  color  and  broken  into 
lumps.  It  is  very  pure  and  sweet,  and  better  than 
the  white  loaf  of  the  States.  The  people  seem  to 
be  fond  of  sweets.  The  manufacture  of  dulceria  is 
an  important  industry,  and  the  peddlers  of  candies 
and  confections  are  almost  as  numerous  as  the  ped 
dlers  of  lottery  tickets.  These  peddlers  of  sweets 
are  seen  squatted  all  over  the  plaza,  with  their 
stores  temptingly  displayed  before  them. 

As  business  is  sometimes  slack,  the  attention  of 
the  vender  is  often  diverted  from  his  wares  for  sev 
eral  moments. 

The  Mexican  dog  is  very  much  like  his  brother 
in  the  barbaric  North. 

I  bought  no  sweets  in  Mexico. 

One  day  we  went  to  visit  a  silk  factory.  We 
were  introduced  to  a  large  room  where  some  hun 
dred  or 'more  of  brown  maidens,  some  of  them 
handsome  and  all  coquettish,  were  engaged  in 
spooling  coarse  raw  silk.  A  large  \vooden  wheel 
revolving  at  the  back  part  of  the  building  attracted 
my  attention.  It  seemed  to  furnish  the  motive 
power  for  the  spindles,  but  I  was  puzzled  to  under 
stand  what  turned  the  wheel.  No  sign  of  an  en- 


Il6  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

gine  was  visible.  A  clattering,  as  of  some  hoofed 
animal  climbing  a  stairway  until  he  reached  the  top, 
and  then  rolling  to  the  bottom,  added  to  the  mys 
tery.  On  approaching  for  a  nearer  view  the  mys 
tery  was  explained.  The  wheel  was  hollow,  and 
inside  of  it  was  confined  a  miserable  mule,  con 
demned  to  one  eternal  climb  in  which  no  progress 
could  be  made.  We  purchased  some  handker 
chiefs  of  the  coarse  raw  silk,  gaudily  colored,  as 
specimens  of  Mexican  industry.  Here,  as  every 
where  else,  the  foreigner  is  expected  to  pay  two  or 
three  prices,  but  we  found  a  protector  in  our  guide. 
After  chaffering  for  some  time  over  the  price  of 
a  half  dozen  handkerchiefs,  and  hearing  the  sales 
man's  ultimatum,  I  was  about  to  reach  for  my 
pocketbook.  "  Hold  on,"  said  Hawthorne.  "Now 
when  I  tell  you  what  he  says  he  will  take,  you 
shake  your  'ead  and  offer  him  a  dollar  less."  I 
shook  my  'ead  as  directed,  and  with  a  heart 
broken  look  the  abated  price  was  accepted.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  price  I  paid  was  still  con 
siderably  more  than  a  native  could  have  bought 
the  same  goods  for. 

Food  is  very  cheap  in  Mexico.1  Likewise  all  ar 
ticles  of  home  manufacture,  and  some  of  the  im 
ported  goods.  An  excellent  quality  of  brandy  is  re 
tailed  at  12^  cents.  Whisky  is  only  drank  by 
Americans  and  Englishmen.  At  the  restaurants 
you  get  a  meal  for  fifty  cents  that  would  cost  $1.50 
in  the  States.  As  the  servants  get  no  pay,  depend 
ing  entirely  on  what  they  receive  from  guests,  it  is 
customary  to  acknowledge  faithful  and  intelligent 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  117 

service  by  the  donation  of  a  trifle.  One  morning 
Appollonio  came  to  me  at  the  Comonfort  with  a 
grievance.  He  had  seen  me  getting  my  boots 
blacked  by  Bonifacio,  a  servant  on  the  ground 
floor.  He  wanted  me  to  understand  that  all  the 
lodgers  on  the  third  floor  were  his  peculiar  meat. 
To  appease  him  I  got  him  to  sew  a  button  on  a  re 
fractory  shirt,  and  paid  him  a  quarter.  The  prices 
of  some  articles,  however,  seem  rather  exorbitant. 
It  stimulates  a  fellow's  appetite  for  ham  to  see  a 
Westphalia  specimen  in  a  shop  window  labeled  six 
reals  ($1.50)  a  pound.  Spirits  of  peppermint,  how 
ever,  seem  to  be  the  costliest  article  in  the  capital. 
One  night  Mr.  P.  was  troubled  with  intestine 
strife,  probably  caused  by  excess  of  fruit,  and 
thought  a  spoonful  of  that  favorite  domestic  remedy 
would  set  him  right.  There  was  a  venerable  old 
apothecary — suave  and  oily — on  the  south  side  of 
the  plaza,  who  had  seduced  us  into  the  purchase  of 
sundry  glasses  of  soda  on  pretense  of  speaking  Eng 
lish.  Thither  we  repaired,  and  he  put  up  an  ounce 
of  peppermint,  for  which  he  unblushingly  demand 
ed  a  dollar.  Mr.  P.  is  not  the  man  to  be  swindled 
without  kicking.  If  the  old  fraud  had  charged  him 
fifty  cents  he  would  have  contested  the  claim.  But 
the  enormity  of  the  swindle  overwhelmed  him,  and 
he  paid  it  wathout  a  remonstrance.  Then  he  walked 
over  to  the  plaza,  took  a  seat  under  a  eucalyptus 
tree,  and  pronounced. 

In  Mexico  every  business  house  has  a  fanciful 
name.  Instead  of  putting  the  name  of  the  firm  on 
the  sign  they  put  up  its  designation.  For  a  shoe 


Il8  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

store  the  "Blue  Boot"  seems  to  be  a  favorite  name. 
Frequently  a  dry  goods  store  is  called  "The 
Daughters  of  Eve."  "  El  Borrego "  (the  sheep) 
seems  to  be  a  favorite  sign  for  a  cigar  store.  The 
•pulque  shops  have  the  most  fanciful  names.  "  The 
Roses  of  Spring,"  and  "The  Three  Graces"  are 
common  names,  while  other  proprietors,  with 
shocking  candor,  call  their  places  "The  Hell," 
"The  Little  Hell,"  "The  Devil's  Tail,"  "The 
Devil's  School,"  etc. 

The  most  beautiful  suburb  of  Mexico  is  San 
Angel.  It  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  about 
ten  miles  out,  and  is  the  wildest  little  beauty  spot  I 
ever  saw.  One  Sunday  we  took  the  horse  cars, 
rode  out  there,  and  spent  a  few  hours  very  pleas 
antly  in  loafing  about  its  quaint  little  plaza,  and 
strolling  through  its  walled  gardens,  filled  with  ap 
ple,  pear,  apricot  and,  peach  trees,  flowers  and 
tropical  fruits.  In  one  of  these  gardens  I  saw  a 
rose  tree  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and  spreading 
over  a  large  surface  of  ground.  It  looked  as  if  it 
might  have  been  three  hundred  years  old,  and  I 
dare  say  it  was.  Around  a  pulque  shop  were  gath 
ered  a  dozen  or  more  horsemen,  in  heavily  silvered 
sombreros,  gay  velvet  jackets,  and  bell-buttoned 
pantaloons,  slashed  to  the  knee.  Horses  and 
equipments  all  seemed  of  the  finest.  At  first  I 
supposed  they  represented  the  dandy  element  of 
the  city,  out  on  a  lark,  but  after  making  merry  for 
an  hour  or  two,  they  all  mounted  and  galloped  ofF 
on  the  road  leading  up  the  mountain.  They  looked 
like  ideal  brigands.  But  as  there  was  a  garrison 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  1 19 

of  Porfirio's  soldiers  with;n  a  stone's  throw,  we  felt 
no  apprehensions. 

The  manifest  shrinkage  of  our  pocket-books 
warned  us  that  we  had  better  get  out  of  Mexico. 
The  colonel  had  left  six  days  ahead  of. us  with  a 
view  to  visiting  Puebla,  and  then  hurrying  on  to 
Vera  Cruz  to  catch  the  English  steamer  for  Ha 
vana.  So,  bidding  a  regretful  adieu  to  our  kind 
friends,  the  Harrises,  and  others,  whose  acquaint 
ance  we  had  found  very  pleasant,  we  boarded  the 
midnight  train  and  turned  our  faces  seaward.  We 
were  fortunate  enough  to  secure  an  entire  compart 
ment  of  the  English  coach  to  ourselves,  and  putting 
the  great  ulster  under  my  head,  I  laid  down  to 
pleasant  dreams.  How  long  I  had  slept  I  know 
not,  but  I  awoke  with  a  sensation  of  the  most  sting 
ing  cold.  It  seemed  as  if  an  icicle  could  not  have 
been  freer  from  caloric.  I  got  into  that  ulster  in 
short  order,  tucked  its  long  skirts  about  me,  rolled 
myself  into  a  ball,  and  shivered  until  morning. 
Remembering  the  midsummer  fierceness  of  the 
sun  at  noon  of  the  previous  day,  I  could  not  have 
believed  such  a  temperature  possible  within  fifty 
miles.  But  it  was  a  frosty  night.  With  the  sun 
came  a  modification  of  the  temperature,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  it  was  pleasantly  warm,  though  Malinche 
was  covered  with  snow  until  her  summit  was  as 
white  as  Popocatapetl.  Passing  Boca  del  Monte, 
and  hurrying  down  the  rapid  descent  on  the  other 
side,  the  atmosphere  became  sultry  and  suffocating. 
A  hot  vapor  steamed  up  from  the  earth  in  the  low- 


I2O  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

lands,  and  the  rank  vegetation  seemed  loaded  with 
pestilential  miasma. 

We  arrived  at  Vera  Cruz  a  little  after  dark,  and 
were  greeted  with  its  own  peculiar  agglomeration 
of  stinks,  each  one  of  which  seemed  to  have  grown 
robust  and  aggressive  in  our  absence.  Arriving  at 
the  hotel  we  were  overjoyed  to  find  the  colonel  sit 
ting  at  a  little  table  in  the  public  room,  with  his  feet 
in  the  sawdust  and  an  imposing  tumbler  of  brandy 
and  water  before  him.  The  colonel  is  a  temperate 
man  ;  with  the  exception  of  a  bottle  of  claret  at  din 
ner,  he  could  rarely  be  induced  to  imbibe.  But  he 
is  an  old  traveler,  and  knows  that  there  is  no  better 
prophylactic  of  the  poison  of  yellow  fever  than  a  lit 
tle  brandy  judiciously  administered.  He  likewise 
knows  that  persistent  use  not  only  deprives  it  of 
its  power  to  protect,  but  betrays  the  improvident 
drinker  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  colonel 
had  stopped  oft' a  couple  of  days  to  visit  the  cataract 
of  Orizaba,  and  this  is  how  we  happened  to  over 
take  him  again.  The  next  morning  we  put  him  on 
board  the  New  York  steamer  which  touches  at  Ha 
vana,  and  saw  him  off*.  It  seemed  like  parting  with 
a  friend  of  long  years'  standing,  instead  of  a  chance 
acquaintance.  His  last  words,  as  our  boat  receded 
from  the  steamer's  side,  was  an  admonition  to  "Be 
ware  of  the  hypercoon." 

I  had  heard  much  in  Mexico  of  the  delicious  oys 
ters  of  Vera  Cruz.  Seeing  a  sign  in  the  public 
room  of  the  hotel — "  Oysters  25  cents  a  dozen" — 
I  concluded  to  try  some.  They  brought  me  a  plate 
of  what  at  first  I  took  for  empty  shells,  but  on  close 


TRIP    TO    MEXICO.  121 

scrutiny  I  detected  in  each  shell  a  small,  dark,  jel 
ly-like  substance,  about  the  size  of  a  nickel,  which, 
in  the  absence  of  anything  better,  does  duty  as  an 
oyster.  The  shells  are  small  and  thin  as  wafers. 
I  tried  to  get  at  the  flavor  of  the  oysters,  but 
could  not  get  enough  of  them  together  to  make  a 
taste.  If  I  was  real  hungry  I  would  rather  glean 
the  empty  shells  of  a  dozen  Barrataria  oysters  than 
attempt  to  make  a  meal  out  of  a  bushel  of  the 
Vera  Cruz  article. 

Vera  Cruz,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  lively  place.  As 
we  sit  in  the  public  room  a  drunken  sailor  quarrels 
with  the  barkeeper,  and  at  every  movement  of 
the  latter  puts  his  hand  to  his  hip,  where  an  ugly 
looking  knife  reposes  in  a  greasy  sheath.  He  is 
knocked  down  from  behind  and  turned  over  to  the 
police.  An  old  man,  bent  nearly  double,  his  thin 
face  the  color  of  old  leather,  is  pleading  at  the  bar 
for  a  drink.  He  has  a  fine,  intellectual  face,  but 
insanity,  caused  by  drink,  has  long  since  taken 
possession  of  him.  He  goes  about  constantly  talk 
ing  to  himself,  and  drinking  whenever  he  can  get 
drink.  He  shows  a  silver  piece,  but  the  attendant 
tells  him  it  is  not  his  money  he  wants  ;  he  has  had 
enough  drink.  His  earnest  pleading  finally  pre 
vails  ;  he  swallow  at  a  gulp  the  tumbler  of  brandy, 
and  goes  out  into  the  night.  We  retire  early  and 
are  put  into  a  large  corner  room,  with  four  win 
dows  and  four  beds.  The  heat  has  increased  until 
it  is  almost  suffocating.  The  windows  swing  back 
on  hinges  like  doors,  but  only  seem  to  admit  stink, 
which  increases  rather  than  modifies  the  intense 


122  TRIP    TO    MEXICO. 

heat.  The  stenches  of  three  hundred  years'  ac 
cumulation  seem  to  have  all  been  stirred  up  on  this 
horrid  night  for  our  especial  benefit.  I  take  one  of 
the  miserable  little  cots,  with  an  insufficient  mos 
quito  bar  which  exasperates  like  a  short  shirt. 
Down  below  they  are  keeping  up  an  infernal  racket 
of  card-playing  and  gabbling.  The  mosquitoes 
are  abominably  active.  Sleep  is  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  P.  sits  in  one  of  the  open  windows  and 
smokes  incessantly.  And  so  we  gasp  the  long 
night  away.  Another  night  of  this  torture  and  our 
steamer  comes  into  port.  We  board  her  immedi 
ately,  and  feel  like  new  men  when  a  mile  of  water 
intervenes  between  our  nostrils  and  the  smells 
of  the  City  of  the  True  Cross.  Perhaps  some 
mav  think  I  am  prejudiced  against  Vera  Cruz. 
Let  them  spend  a  couple  of  warm  nights  there, 
and  they  will  regret  the  poverty  of  the  Eng 
lish  language.  Even  the  buzzards  have  to  fly  a 
mile  or  so  out  twice  a  day,  and  spend  an  hour  or 
two  circling  over  the  blue  water,  in  order  to  escape 
the  smells. 


BIG  SAM." 


I  PRESUME  he  must  have  had  another  name, 
thougn  if  I  ever  knew  it,  it  has  escaped  my  mem 
ory.  He  was  known  in  the  regiment  as  "Big 
Sam."  B.  S.  was  not  a  graceful  party,  nor  a 
pleasant  fellow  to  look  at.  Though  prepared 
to  polish  off  anybody  at  a  moment's  notice,  it 
was  quite  apparent  that  he  lacked  polish.  He 
was  long,  loose-jointed,  shambling  in  gait,  gin 
ger-haired,  lantern-jawed,  and  had  a  stoop  in  his 
shoulders.  Big  Sam's  temper  was  none  of  the 
sweetest,  especially  when  he  had  liquor  in  him, 
\vhich  was  always  the  case,  if  he  could  get  it, 
and  he  generally  could.  I  have  noticed  that  men 
usually  can  get  liquor,  even  when  they  can  get 
nothing  else.  A  fellow  may  be  out  of  credit,  out 
at  the  elbows,  out  all  over,  but,  though  he  could 
not  raise  a  breakfast  to  keep  him  from  starving,  he 
can  always  manage  to  keep  drunk.  No  man  ever 
yet  kept  sober  for  lack  of  money.  But,  as  I  was 
going  to  remark  about  Big  Sam,  he  was  an  ugly 
chap — a  rough  customer — not  to  put  too  tine  a 
point  on  it,  a  ruffian.  Of  his  career  before  enter- 


124  '"  BIG    SAM." 

ing  the  service  of  his  beloved  "ked'ntry"  I  can 
not  speak.  Somehow  there  was  a  vague  impres 
sion  abroad  that  he  had  been  a  tanner,  and  he  cer 
tainly  did  smell  a  little  that  way,  now  and  then. 

Military  discipline  sat  uneasily  upon  the  shoul 
ders  of  Big  Sam.  He  could  not  grasp  the  idea. 
Having  always  been  accustomed  to  his  own  way, 
it  was  hard  to  resign  his  individuality,  and  subor 
dinate  himself  to  the  will  of  shoulder  straps.  If 
the  work  of  putting  down  the  rebellion  could  have 
been  effected  with  a  "hurrah" — a  fight  in  the 
morning  and  a  frolic  at  night — each  patriot  going 
in  voluntarily,  staying  as  long  as  he  wanted  to  and 
using  his  judgment  about  retiring  when  he  had 
enough,  Big  Sam  would  have  liked  it.  But  he 
abominated  the  tomfoolery  of  dress  parade,  and 
the  absurdity  of  guard  mounting  disgusted  him. 

Sam  was  insubordinate.  He  was  amenable  to 
reason  when  sober,  but  he  would  get  drunk  on  an 
average  twice  a  week,  and  then  he  was  a  source  of 
vexation  to  the  officers  and  a  bad  example  to  the 
men.  He  would  fight,  break  guard,  curse  the  offi 
cers  and  make  himself  disagreeable  in  a  hundred 
ways.  As  the  green  rabble  were  transformed  into 
soldiers,  and  the  slouching,  shambling  gait  was 
supplanted  by  the  martial  tread  of  the  soldier,  dis 
cipline  tightened  on  Big  Sam  ;  but  he  did  not  mind 
it.  He  could  get  as  tight  as  discipline  could.  He 
cared  not  for  guard  house,  or  any  of  the  thousand 
and  one  ingenious  punishments  devised  to  reduce 
his  obstinate  spirit,  and  he  snapped  his  fingers  at 
court  martial.  One  thing  about  the  brute.  He 


"  BIG    SAM/'  125 

had  indomitable  courage.  He  was  an  exception 
to  the.  rule  that  a  bully  is  always  a  coward.  I  have 
seen  him  heap  the  foulest  epithets  on  an  officer 
with  a  cocked  revolver  in  one  hand  and  a  watch  in 
the  other,  waiting  for  the  allotted  five  minutes  to 
expire  before  being  shot  for  gross  insubordina 
tion.  By  every  vile  abuse  his  ingenuity  could  de 
vise,  Big  Sam  invited  death,  but  the  natural  re 
pugnance  which  every  one  feels  to  shedding  the 
blood  of  an  unarmed  man  prevailed  over  a  sense 
of  duty,  and  Big  Sam  was  spared,  "to  the  preju 
dice  of  good  order  and  military  discipline."  Mat 
ters  finally  became  critical  with  the  regimental  ele 
phant.  It  was  quite  apparent  that  something  must 
be  done  with  him.  If  he  had  taken  it  into  his 
jackass  head  to  desert  it  would  have  relieved  the 
colonel  of  a  load  of  responsibility.  No  reward 
would  have  been  offered  for  him,  and  no  attempt 
would  have  been  made  to  hunt  him  up  or  down. 
The  colonel  pondered  over  him.  Several  courses 
of  treatment  suggested  themselves.  He  might  be 
shot  almost  any  day  in  the  week  with  good  effect 
on  the  regimental  morale,  or  he  might  be  drummed 
out  writh  a  full  regimental  band  playing  the  Rogue's 
March  ;  but  the  colonel  was  loth  to  accept  either  of 
these  alternatives.  So  he  tried  an  experiment.  He 
made  him  a  corporal.  Big  Sam  went  into  the 
colonel's  tent  wearing  his  usual  sullen  look,  and 
came  out  bewildered  and  foolish.  He  could  not 
understand  it.  He  pondered  the  matter,  and  the 
more  he  turned  it  over,  the  more  inextricably  con 
fused  he  became.  However,  from  that  moment 


126  "BIG    SAM." 

there   was    a    change,  or   rather  a    succession    of 
changes,  in  Big  Sam. 

The  first  change  was  that  of  his  shirt,  and  as  he 
appeared  at  guard-mounting  with  his  face  washed, 
his  coat  brushed,  and  the  new  chevrons  on  his 
sleeves,  he  appeared  quite  'a  different  man.  His 
opinions  on  various  mooted  military  points  under 
went  a  radical  change.  The  adjutant's  way  of 
putting  it — "  You  have  no  right  to  think,  sir.  The 
Government  pays  men  to  think  for  you  !  " — no  lon 
ger  struck  him  as  being  a  monstrous  infringement 
of  individual  rights.  Circumstances  alter  cases, 
and  from  his  corporal  standpoint,  the  old  East 
Indian's  rude  enunciation  of  a  great  military  idea 
no  longer  appeared  so  monstrously  arbitrary.  Big 
Sam  felt  that  he  now  was  paid  by  the  Government 
to  think  for  others.  Unlike  many,  Big  Sam  did 
not  become  a  tyrant  as  soon  as  he  was  promoted. 
The  dignity  of  the  position  was  duly  appreciated, 
but  he  was  not  inflated  by  its  importance.  He 
was  as  stern  a  corporal  in  all  matters  of  duty  as 
ever  posted  a  sentinel,  but  he  was  impartial  and 
just  in  the  exercise  of  his  authority.  From  the 
worst  man  and  the  most  insubordinate  soldier  in 
the  regiment  he  became  orderly,  well-behaved  and 
trustworthy.  His  drunks  became  few  and  far  be 
tween,  and  even  in  his  cups  he  never  forgot  that 
he  was  an  officer  in  the  service  of  the  republic, 
and  that  his  name  was  at  stake. 

Big  Sam  died  ingloriously.  It  was  all  about  a 
little  matter  of  honey.  He  had  discovered  a  bee 
hive  near  the  camp,  and  had  told  a  comrade  of  it 


"  BIG    SAM."  127 

in  confidence.      One   clay  when    far    gone   under 
the  influence  of  his  ancient  enemy,  he  concluded 
he    would    go    out    and  harvest    his    honey.     Un 
luckily  he  encountered  his  perfidious  comrade,  ap 
parently  bent  on  the  same  errand,  on  the  ground. 
The  sergeant  was  quite  as  drunk  as  the  big  cor 
poral.     There  were  hot  words,  and  mutual  recrim 
inations.       The    sergeant,   a    small,    slightly    built 
man,   wanted  to    fight,  but   Big    Sam   scorned   to 
fight   so   small   a   man.     He   proposed   ten   paces, 
and  a  settlement  with  revolvers,  and  his  proposi 
tion   was    accepted.      The    ground    was    stepped, 
the  word    given,   and    the    pistols  cracked    simul 
taneously.     A  navy  ball   passed  through  the  ser 
geant's  hair,  and  Big  Sam  lay  stretched  upon  the 
grass,    spitting    blood.       The    bullet    had    passed 
through  his  lungs.     He  was  on  his  feet  in  a  mo 
ment,  and  "reckoned"  it  didn't  amount  to  much. 
The  sergeant,  pale  as  a  sheet  and  sobered  by  the 
termination  of  the  affair,  was  at  his  side  in  a  mo 
ment,  anxiously  inquiring  where  he  was  hit,  and 
the  night-capped  head  of  the  rightful  owner  of  the 
honey,  who  had  been  a  horror-stricken  witness  of 
the  affair,  was  hastily  withdrawn  from  the  upper 
window  out  of  which  it  had  been  protruded. 

"Sergeant,  you'll  have  to  help  me  to  camp," 
said  Big  Sam.  "  I  feel  kind  o'  squeamish  like,  and 
I'm  afraid  you've  cooked  my  goose  for  me.  We're 
a  couple  o'  d — d  fools  anyhow.  But  I'm  d — d  glad 
I  didn't  hit  you." 

Big  Sam  lay  on  his  cot  in  the  hospital,  which 
was  located  on  an  old  wharf  boat.  It  was  on  the 


128  4k  BIG    SAM." 

night  of  the  tenth  day  since  the  moonlight  duel 
over  the  beehive.  He  had  steadily  and  obstinately 
refused  at  first  to  tell  how  he  had  received  his 
wound,  but  the  sergeant,  a  prey  to  unavailing  re 
grets,  had  told  the  whole  story,  and  the  owner  of 
the  honey  had  corroborated  it.  Big  Sam's  iron 
constitution  had  held  out  manfully,  and  hopes  of 
his  recovery  were  entertained.  A  paymaster  was 
in  camp,  and  the  rolls  had  been  brought  down  for 
Big  Sam  to  sign.  Partially  raising  himself  on  one 
elbow,  he  grasped  the  pen,  wrote  his  name  in  great 
sprawling  letters,  and  fell  back  exhausted.  Then 
he  slept,  for  a  short  time,  awaking  with  a  start. 
"  Lieutenant,"  he  called,  with  something  of  alarm 
in  his  voice,  "  Come  to  me.  D — d  if  I  aint  dying  ! 
Yes  I  am !  I  feel  it.  I'll  be  dead  in  ten  minutes. 
Lieutenant,  I've  been  a  hard  case.  I  never  had  no 
raisin',  and  growed  up  among  thieves  and  drunk 
ards,  but  by  G — d  I've  tried  to  make  a  man  of  my 
self  an'  do  my  duty  by  the  boys.  Tell  Jake  not  to 
fret  about  it.  I  was  more  to  blame  than  him.  You 

draw  my  money  to-morrow  and  send  it  to . 

Pay  Stigall  a  dollar  out  of  it.  What  the  h— 11  did 
you  put  the  light  out  for?  No?  Good  God!  I'm 
blind  !  Good  bye,  Lieutenant !  I'm  going.  Christ 
have  mercy  on  me." 

His  eyes  closed,  and  his  breathing  was  that  of  a 
dying  man.  After  a  few  moments  of  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  labored  respiration,  he  mut 
tered  in  broken  tones,  "Fool!  All  for — a  little — 
stolen  honey !  "  And  then  Big  Sam  turned  half 


"BIG  SAM.  129 

way  over,  a  convulsive  shiver  ran  through  his  giant 
frame,  his  legs  stiffened  out,  and  he  was  dead. 

I  have  given  the  death-bed  scene  of  Big  Sam  as 
I  remember  it,  in  all  its  horrible  profanity,  without 
apology.  The  Sergeant  was  court-martialed,  but 
nothing  was  done  with  him.  The  death  of  Big 
Sam,  however,  has  always  lain  heavily  on  his  con 
science.  Since  that  awful  night  he  has  eaten  no 
honey  nor  drank  any  liquor. 


JIM  BALES'  DOG  FIGHT. 


WE  could  not  be  mistaken.  We  knew  him  bv 
his  long,  loose-jointed  legs,  his  shambling  gait, 
and  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  he  slung  his 
ape-like  arms  about  him.  His  face  was  scored 
like  pork,  and  patched  up  with  bits  of  sticking 
plaster.  One  ear  had  been  "chawed  ofF,''  and 
both  eyes  were  terribly  bunged.  Some  accom 
plished  artist  had  evidently  undertaken  the  job  of 
polishing  him  off.  When  we  say  him,  we  wish  to  be 
understood  as  alluding  to  our  osseous  friend,  Mr. 
James  Bales,  Esq.,  a  long,  lean,  gaunt  and  hungry 
patriot  who  lives  over  the  river,  and  earns  his 
bread  by  fishing  and  hunting,  with  brief  variations 
in  the  way  of  manual  labor.  Jim  isn't  on  good 
terms  with  our  Spanish  friend,  Manual,  and  gen 
erally  picks  a  quarrel  with  him  the  first  week,  re 
lapsing  into  vagabondism.  His  standard  amuse 
ments  are  tobacco  chewing,  whisky  drinking,  fid 
dling  and  righting.  He  has  abundance  of  pluck 
and  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  manly  art ;  and  hence 
— a  felicitous  expression,  for  which  we  acknowl 
edge  our  indebtedness  to  a  well-known  educator — 


JIM    BALES      DOG    FIGHT.  131 

we  were  somewhat  surprised  to  see  him  so  badly 
used  up. 

"Hullo!  Jim!  been  fightin'?  " 

The  long,  shambling  legs  came  to  a  dead  halt, 
the  windmill  arms  ceased  to  vibrate,  and  he  re 
garded  us  with  a  half-puzzled,  half-defiant  glare. 
•  "  W'y  George,  I  didn't  see  yer.  Ha'nt  seen 
much  o'  anything  for  the  last  ten  days.  Look  at 
them  eyes,  George.  D'ye  think  ye  could  git  along 
with  sech  a  pair  o'  optics  yerself  ?  Ef  ye  do,  I 
can'  tell  ye  jest  whar  to  git  'em.  And  I  don't 
charge  nothin'  for  the  information,  nuther.  Been 
fightin'?  You're  mighty  right.  Glad  to  see  ye! 
Blast  my  eyes  (wot's  left  of  'em)  ef  I  aint !  Give 
us  a  chaw." 

He  twisted  off  about  two  ounces  of  cavendish 
and  thrust  it  into  his  cavernous  jaws. 

"Well,  George,  that's  about  the  meanest  ter- 
backer  I  ever  knowed  a  white  man  to  carry.  Not 
white  enough  to  spile  the  hide,  though,  are  ye, 
George?  Haw  !  haw  !  If  I  was  in  your " 

"  But  about  the  fight,  Jim." 

"Yes,  I'm  a  comin'  to  that.  But,  George,  I'm 
dry  as  a  lime-kiln.  Got  any  stamps?  Yes?  Well, 
jest  lend  me  a  dollar — that'll  make  it  an  even  five, 
you  know — an'  I'll  set  'em  up.  Less  go  in  h'yar 
to  the  S'  Nickelus,  and  arter  I've  lubricated  with 
about  forty  drops  o'  instant  death,  I'll  tell  ye  the 
whole  story.  Don't  drink?  Tell  that  to  marines, 
Georgey,  but  it  won't  go  down  wi'  me.  You  see  I 
know  ye — know'd  ye  in  the  army.  Ef  you'd  ever 
been  cashiered,  it  wouldn't  a  bin  on  account  o'  not 


132  JIM    BALES'    DOG    FIGHT. 


punishin'  your  share  o'  commissary.     Hev,  Geor- 

gey?" 

The  amount  of  fluid  with  which  Mr.  Bales  pro 
posed  to  "lubricate"  was  certainly  the  most  aston 
ishing  "forty  drops"  that  ever  came  within  the 
observation  of  that  barkeeper.  He  stared  in  open- 
mouthed  wonder,  and  muttered  some  incoherent 
nonsense  about  doing  a  wholesale  business. 

Having  enveloped  his  benzine,  wrhich  he  did  at 
a  single  gulp,  finishing  the  performance  with  a 
relishing  smack  of  the  lips,  wre  pressed  Jim  for  the 
story  of  his  fight. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  began  Mr.  Bales,  first  polish 
ing  his  worst  eye  with  the  remains  of  a  red  silk 
handkerchief,  "  I  had  bin  workin'  purty  steady  at 
the  pork'us,  and  had  got  sort  o'  tired  o'  spar  ribs, 
an'  sich.  They  kind  o'  turrfed  agin  me,  you 
know,  an'  I  hankered  arter  wild  game — a  briled 
squirrel,  or  a  couple  o'  nice  patridges.  So  I 
thought  I'd  jest  take  my  gun  an'  try  the  fields  a 
round.  Lize  said  I  had  better  a  durned  sight  go  to 
work  an'  git  money  enough  to  buv  myself  a  pair  o' 
boots.  I  had  a  sort  o'  sneakin'  notion  that  Lize's 
head  was  level ;  but  you  know,  George,  these 
women  han't  much  idee  o'  field  sports,  anyhow, 
an'  as  Fd  bin  a  workin'  puriy  study  for.more'n  a 
week,  I  thought  I'd  go  jest  once,  an'  trust  to  luck 
fur  the  boots.  So  givin'  Jule,  the  bitch,  a  per- 
liminnerry  thrashin',  to  subdue  the  exuberance  of 
her  animal  sperits,  I  started  out.  Lize  was  mad  as- 
a  hornet,  an'  her  little  black  eyes  was  a  snappin' 
like  coals  o'  fire.  I  know'd  I  wasn't  doin'  the 


JIM  BALES'  DOG  FIGHT.  133 

clean  thing  by  Lize,  who  is  a  good  woman, 
George,  only  she  has  the  allfiredest  temper  in  the 
world  ;  but  I  was  mighty  tired  o'  work,  an'  needed 
a  little  recreation.  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  we 
started  out,  an'  beat  over  a  dozen  fields  without 
raisin'  anything  bigger'n  a  grasshopper.  Jule 
worked  mighty  industrious,  (she  was  afraid  of 
another  lickin')  but  there  wasn't  a  feather  in  a 
rajus  o'  ten  mild.  The  infernal  town  hunters  had 
skeered  the  blasted  birds  clean  outen  the  county. 
A  big  disgust  come  over  me,  an'  I  started  fur 
Stringtown.  I  gravitated  into  a  pizen  shop,  and 
thar  I  found  a  feller  with  a  fiddle.  You  know  my 
weakness,  George.  I  kin  no  more  git  away  from 
a  fiddle,  speshally  ef  there's  any  rum  about,  than 
a  hoss  kin  git  away  from  a  burnin'  stable.  Conse 
quence  was  that  midnight  found  me  a  fiddlin'  an' 
clancin',  drunker  nor  a  biled  owl.  I'll  never  tell 
ye  how  I  gut  home,  but  when  I  did  sneak  in  I 
found  Lize  ready  fur  me,  bilin'  over  with  madness, 
cocked  an'  primed  with  a  big,  curting  lecture. 
I've  had  many  a  curting  lecture,  George,  but 
blamed  ef  that  wasn't  the  completest  one  I  ever 
heerd  tell  on.  Lize  astonished  me,  an'  I  da'  say 
she  astonished  herself.  I  didn't  think  it  was  in 
her.  There's  notliin'  equal  to  a  woman's  tongue 
when  it  gits  a  goin'  rightly,  an'  ef  that  blessed 
female  didn't  keep  it  up,  without  intermission  for 
refreshments,  the  livelong  night,  then  may  I  never 
taste  sperits  agin.  She  jawed  and  jawed  till  I 
thought  the  hinges  would  a  wore  out,  an'  the  more 
I  said  nothin'  the  harder  she  jawed.  Ef  I  per- 


134  JIM  BALES'  DOG  FIGHT. 

tended  to  snore  she'd  punch  me  in  the  ribs.  I 
thought  of  a  tough  ramrod  I  had  in  the  corner,  anr 
was  orfully  tempted  to  try  it  on  her ;  but  that 
would  a'  been  too  durned  mean.  Or'nary  an' 
triflin'  as  I  am  I  never  yet  licked  a  woman,  George, 
but  a  feller  that  drinks  Stringtown  whisky  is  never 
safe,  even  from  that.  But  I  banished  the  ramrod 
from  my  mind,  an'  told  Satan  to  git  him  behind 
me,  an'  he  got.  Finally,  about  daylight,  Lize  got 
kind  o'  hystericky,  an'  I  dropped  into  a  oneasy 
sleep,  durin'  which  I  could  hear  Lize's  tongue  still 
a  goin'  it,  an'  sech  words  as  'brute,'  i  beast,'  an' 
'  hog,'  comin'  an  allfired  sight  thicker  an'  faster 
than  bullets  did  in  the  whisky  charge  at  Port  Hud 
son.  That  died  out  in  time,  an'  I  slept  like  a  log. 
Ever  drink  any  Stringtown  whisky,  George?  No? 
Well,  then,  there's  a  new  sensation  a  waitin'  for 
you." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Bales'  throat  became  husky, 
and  the  barkeeper  was  again  astonished  to  the  ex 
tent  of  forty  drops,  after  which  the  historian  pro 
ceeded  : 

"  I  don't  think  I  had  slept  more'n  fifteen  minutes 
when  I  was  waked  up  by  the  orfullest  howl  you 
ever  heerd.  I  riz  up  sort  o'  galvanic  like,  jest  in 
time  to  see  the  bitch  a  scootin'  out  o'  the  door  in  a 
mist  o'  steam,  and  Lize  standin'  in  the  middle  o' 
the  floor,  with  the  tea-kettle  in  her  hand.  You 
orter  see  that  animile's  back,  George  ;  not  a  sign 
o'  har  from  the  shoulders  to  the  tail,  no  more'n 
there  is  in  the  palm  o'  my  hand.  At  first  I  thought 
it  was  a  accident,  but  when  I  seed  Lize  (durn  'er) 


JIM    BALES      DOG    FIGHT.  135 

reach  for  my  fiddle,  I  know'd  she  done  it  a  pur 
pose.  Blamed  ef  she  didn't  smash  it  into  a  thou 
sand  pieces.  Then  she  made  a  dive  for  my  gun — 
the  one  I  won  at  a  raffle,  George.  I  jumped  out, 
but  a  leetle  too  late — jest  in  time  to  ketch  her  after 
she'd  broke  it  off  at  britch.  I  thought  of  the  ram 
rod  agin,  but  blamed  ef  she  didn't  soon  take  that 
outen  me.  She  made  a  swipe  at  me  with  the  gun 
barrels,  an'  I  swindled  ole  Allred  outen  a  job  by 
a  clever  dodge.  Things  was  a  gettin'  serous,  an' 
I  lit  out.  It  was  a  right  sharp  mornin',  an'  my  cos 
tume  was  rather  airy  for  the  season ;  so,  arter 
hangin'  around  the  chimley  for  ten  minutes,  and 
shiverin'  until  my  teeth  chattered  like  a  skeered 
monkey,!  concluded  I  would  look  in.  Lize  was  a 
settin'  in  the  corner,  with  her  face  to  the  wrall.  I 
snoke  in,  got  into  my  duds  in  somethin'  of  a  hurry, 
bid  Mrs.  Bales  an  affectionate  good  mornin',  and 
left  fur  the  river.  You're  right  agin,  old  hoss  !  I 
wasn't  in  the  sweetest  humor.  There  was  a  swarm 
o'  bees  buzzin'  in  my  head,  which  seemed  'bout 
the  size  of  a  kit  of  No.  i  mackerel,  an'  I  felt  savage 
as  a  wild  Injun.  Well,  I  got  down  to  the  pork'us, 
an'  was  standin'  around,  waitin',  when  along  come 
a  big  red-headed  lummux,  who  makes  his  whara- 
bouts  in  the  Broad  Riffle  settlement.  He  wer  a 
haulin'  hogs,  and  had  with  him  one  of  the  sneak- 
inest  brindle  dogs  that  you  ever  see — jest  the  kind 
o'  dog  as  any  jury  of  his  countrymen  \vould  convict 
of  sheep-killin'  and  aig-suckin'  on  a  shadder  o' 
suckemstanshul  evidence.  I'd  seen  the  ornery  cuss 
and  his  dog  many  a  time  before  hangin'  abound  the 


136  JIM  BALES'  DOG  FIGHT. 

Stringtown  groceries,  and  durned  ef  I  liked  either 
of 'em  ;  but  I  kept  my  fly-trap  shet,  'cause  you  see, 
Georgey,  he  was  mighty  wide  out  between  the 
shoulders,  an'  I  wrasn't  altogether  clear  in  my  own 
mind  that  he  wouldn't  git  away  with  me.  This 
mornin',  howsever,  I  was  so  mad  I  could  a'  fit  Mc- 
Coole  hisself,  an'  wrhen  the  blasted  cur  come  a 
smellin'  around  me,  to  see  whether  I  was  one  o'  his 
sort,  I  s'pose,  I  jest  handed  him  a  kick  under  the 
ear,  which  landed  him  all  of  a  heap  in  the  fence 
corner,  a  howlin'  until  you  might  a'  heerd  him  at 
the  lunatic  asylum.  In  a  minute  Red  Head  was  off 
his  wagon  and  a  comin'  at  me,  lookin'  mighty  vic 
ious.  Says'e,  "Jim  Bales,  what  did  you  kick  my 
dog  fur?  I'd  ruther  you'd  kick  me  than  to  have  you 
kick  Scrunch."  I  knew  there  was  goin'  to  be  a 
fight,  anr  it  was  jest  in  my  line.  '  Well,'  said  I, 
'  I'd  jest  as  leave  kick  you  as  yer  blasted,  suck-aig 
hound.  Wot  are  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?  '  I  knew 
it  was  a  comin',  but  it  come  a  little  sooner  than  I 
expected.  There  was  something  like  the  bustin' 
of  a  ten  inch  shell  atwixt  the  eyes,  an'  I  see  a  mil 
lion  o'  stars.  I  think  I  turned  as  purty  a  summer 
set  as  ever  you  see  outside  the  circus.  I  got  up  an' 
went  at  him  again,  when  I  caught  a  reglar  rib- 
roaster.  I  could  feel  'em  crack  jest  z'if  you'd  hit 
'em  with  a  maul.  'Taint  wuth  while  to  give  each 
round  separate,  George.  For  the  fust  ten  minutes 
I  got  the  wust  of  it,  and  was  beginnin'  to  feel  sorry 
I  had  undertaken  the  job,  when  I  found  his  wind 
was  a  failin'  him.  That's  where  old  Bales  gits  'em 
all  George.  He  outwinds  'em.  The  tide  had 


JIM    BALES      DOG    FIGHT.  137 

turned,  and  he  was  flat  of  his  back,  and  the  sub 
scriber  was  gittin'  his  money  back  with  neatness 
and  dispatch.  He  was  jest  gittin'  ready  to  blate 
when  the  blasted  dog  come  up  and  bit  me ," 

"Where?"  we  inquired, 

"  None  'o  your  durned  business,"  said  Jim,  with 
more  heat  than  the  nature  of  the  question  called  for  ; 
"but  it  was  an  orful  bite,  and  I  hain't  sot  down 
with  no  sort  'o  satisfaction  sence.  But  as  I  was  a 
sayin'  when  you  put  in  with  your  fool  question — 
durn  a  fool,  anyhow — when  the  dog  bit  me  I  gin'  a 
most  onearthly  yell,  an'  jumped  up  to  fight  the 
enemy  in  the  rear.  The  other  feller  took  a  fresh 
start  while  I  was  lookin'  arter  the  dog,  and  he 
gimme  a  sockdologer  under  the  ear  which  sent  me 
to  grass.  He  wasn't  long  a  gittin'  astraddle  of  me, 
and  the  way  he  put  in  the  licks  was  truly  aston- 
ishin'.  I've  had  more'n  a  hundred  fights,  George, 
but  he's  the  nastiest  customer  I  ever  run  afoul  of. 
It  was  wuss  than  your  fight  with  the  Grand  Army. 
Let's  liquor." 

"But  how  did  it  end,  Jim?" 

"Well,  you  see,  he's  a  heftier  man  than  me, 
anyhow,  an'  it  was  nip  an'  tuck,  but  I  b'lieve  ef — " 

"But  which  licked?" 

"Well,  George,  it  wer  hardly  a  far  fight.  You 
see  I'd  had  no  breakfast,  and  the  infernal  String- 
town  whisky— 

"Yes.  But  the  result.  How  did  you  come 
out?" 

"Well,  you  see,  ef  it  hadn't  a'  been  for  the 
dog-" 


138  JIM    BALES'    DOG    FIGHT. 

"  Oh,  blow  the  dog  !      Did  you  clean  him  out?  " 

"  Well,  ef  you  must  know,  I  HOLLERED,  durnye, 
an'  I  reckon  you'd  a  hollered  too,  ef  you'd  a  had 
Goliar  astraddle  of  ye,  shettin'  offyer  wind  with 
one  hand  while  he  gouged  the  eyes  outen  ye  with 
the  other.  I'm  done  fightin'  an'  tiddlin'  George, 
and  am  goin'  to  work  ef  I  kin  find  somethin'  light 
and  genteel.  I'd  ruther  tend  bar,  but  ef  you  see 
H.  tell  him  I'd  take  a  sit  to  curry  bosses  ruther'n 
remain  idle.  Lize  is  right  arter  all,  ef  she  could 
only  hold  her  blasted  tongue.  Goin'  George? 
Couldn't  lend  me  a  dollar  till  I  see  Tom  Hardin', 
could  ye?  No?  Well,  good  bye." 

We  had  got  to  the  corner  when  Mr.  Bales  called 
us  back. 

"  Look  'e  h'yar,  George,  I've  quit  fightin',  butef 
you  print  anything  about  this  fight,  durned  ef  I 
don't  break  every  bone  in  your  black  hide." 


MAN, 

CONSIDERED  AS  A  CANDLE. 


WHAT  is  man?  The  old  conundrum  which  has 
never  been  satisfactorily  answered.  A  limited 
acquaintance  with  anatomical  and  physiological 
science  teaches  us  that  man  is  made  of  blood, 
bones,  muscle,  cartilages,  integuments,  intestines, 
hair,  horns,  sheep's  wool,  leather,  stove-pipe  hats, 
and  other  miscellaneous  ingredients ;  but  these, 
though  essential,  are  not  all  of  man.  Plato's  defi 
nition — a  two-legged  animal  without  feathers — 
was  good  enough,  until  a  captious  student  plucked 
a  Cochin  China  cock,  and  held  up  the  denuded 
fowl  before  the  puzzled  philosopher  with  the  ad 
monition,  "Behold  your  man!"  "The  animal 
that  laughs,"  provided  a  ready  solution  to  the 
problem,  until  it  was  discovered  that  the  hyena 
also  laughs.  Job  probably  came  as  near  meeting 
the  question  as  any  one  else  has  ever  done,  when 
he  said,  "  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  of  few 
days,  and  full  of  trouble."  Still  the  answer  is  a 
little  lame  in  some  particulars,  which  it  would  be 


140  MAN,  CONSIDERED     AS    A    CANDLE. 

neither  pleasant  nor  profitable  to  consider  just  at 
present.  Suppose,  for  instance,  we  consider  man 
in  the  light  of  a  candle,  not  by  candle-light.  It 
will  not  do  to  trace  these  resemblances  too  closely, 
of  course,  and  due  license  must  be  accorded,  with 
the  usual  privilege  of  ignoring  such  facts  as  do 
not  suit  us,  gently  distorting  where  it  is  necessary, 
and  dwelling  strongly  on  the  available  features  of 
the  case. 

Man's  life  is,  in  many  respects,  like  the  burning 
of  a  candle.  If  the  candle  is  properly  made,  and 
the  burning  is  not  interrupted  by  swaying  to  and 
fro,  or  by  gusts  of  wind,  the  combustion  goes 
steadily  on,  emitting  an  even  light ;  but  at  the  ex 
pense  of  the  material.  The  end  comes  in  due 
time,  and  the  candle  is  burnt  out.  There  is  a 
flickering  in  the  socket,  a  convulsive  leaping  up  of 
the  flame,  and  the  candle  goes  out  in  utter  dark 
ness.  "Out  brief  candle,"  is  the  manner  in 
which  Shakespeare  puts  it.  The  candle  of  man's 
existence,  to  run  its  natural  course,  wrill  finally  ex 
pire  in  darkness.  But  this  event  may  be  has 
tened  by  extraneous  influences.  As  a  puff  of 
wind  will  extinguish  the  tallow  dip,  a  trifling  in 
terference  with  the  natural  course  of  combustion — 
a  tap  on  the  head  with  a  bludgeon,  a  mince  pie  or 
a  lobster  salad  late  at  night,  the  breathing  of  a 
sufficient  amount  of  slaughter-house  effluvia,  to 
inaugurate  typhoid  fever — a  fall  from  a  horse,  a 
cramp  in  the  water,  or  any  one  of  a  thousand  tri 
fling  incidents — may  extinguish  the  flame  of  a  hu 
man  candle.  This  thing  we  call  life  is  held,  or 


MAN,  CONSIDERED    AS    A    CANDLE.  1^1 

holds  itself,  by  a  frail  and  uncertain  tenure  which, 
as  Carlyle  remarks,  the  splutter  of  a  pistol-shot,  or 
the  prick  of  a  bare  bodkin  will  destroy.  Hence, 
the  slang  phrase  for  killing  a  man  comes  by  the 
easy  analogy  of  reasoning  to  be  known  as  "  snuff 
ing  out  his  light." 

Different  men  burn  differently.  Here  is  one 
whose  life  is  a  steady,  even  flame,  emitting  a  clear 
light,  and  when  rudely  jostled  only  spilling  a  trifle 
of  grease,  and  again  resuming  the  even  tenor  of 
his  combustion.  This  is  the  human  stearine.  And 
again,  we  have  the  autocratic  wax  taper,  emitting 
a  perfumed  light,  but  expiring  when  the  end 
comes  with  as  hopeless  a  flutter  as  that  which 
characterizes  the  vulgar  dip.  The  tallow  candle, 
which  requires  frequent  trimming,  guttering  and 
wasting  its  substance  without  affording  much  light, 
and  burning  with  a  nauseous  smell,  is  typical  of 
the  lives  of  some  men.  And  there  are  others  who 
remind  us  of  that  fire-work  known  as  the  Roman 
candle,  by  the  fizzing  rapidity  of  their  consump 
tion,  relieved  by  periodical  explosions,  projecting 
meteor-like  balls  of  fire  into  surrounding  space. 

The  flame  of  the  candle  suggests  the  intelli 
gence,  vital  principle  and  soul  of  man.  A  puff  of 
breath,  or  a  nip  with  the  snuffers,  and  the  flame  is 
gone.  The  candle  may  be  relighted,  but  it  is  not 
the  same  flame  which  was  extinguished.  That  is 
gone  beyond  reach.  It  is  out  of  existence.  The 
elements  that  constituted  it  are  still  in  existence, 
and  a  new  flame  may  be  raised,  but  it  is  not  the 
flame  .which  we  saw  extinguished,  snuffed  out  a 


142  MAN,  CONSIDERED    AS    A    CANDLE. 

moment   since.     It  is  but  a  little  thing  to  puzzle 
one's  brain  about,  and  yet  it  is  enough  to  start  the 
most  painful   train   of  thoughts.     What    if  man's 
life  once  extinguished  is  like  the  snuffed-out  flame 
of  the    candle?      What    if  the    impalpable   atoms 
which  constitute  the  soul  should  follow  the  laws  of 
inanimate    matter,    and    eternally    perish    and  be 
eternally  reproduced,  but  never  in  the  same  com 
binations?     We  understand  that  nothing  material 
perishes  or  is  created.     There  is  constant  change, 
but  no  new  creation  of  the  elements  which  in  cer 
tain  combinations  make  up  the  flesh,  hair,  finger 
nails,  blood  and  bones  of  an  earthly  tabernacle. 
Men   die  and  worms  do  eat  them.     The  soil  ab 
sorbs  them,  and  gives  them  out  again  in  new  com 
binations  ;  but  never  again  in  the  endless  cycles  of 
time  can  the  man  who  has  once  lived  and  died  be 
reproduced  by  an  accidental  reunion  of  the  identi 
cal  atoms  of  which  he  was  composed,  or  if  he  is, 
he  will  never  know  it,  which  amounts  to  the  same 
thing.     The    fearful    thought    obtrudes    itself  that 
possibly  the  same  laws  may  govern  the  life  and 
death  of  the  soul — that  when  snuffed  out  like  the 
flame  of  the  candle,  its   identity  is   eternally   lost ; 
that  the  atoms  of  intelligence  constituting  the  soul 
may  enter  into  other  souls  ;  but  never  by  any  possi 
bility  can  they  be  re-united  in  the  same  proportions. 
It  is  a  sad  muddle   at  best,  and  nothing  can  be 
gained  by  vain  endeavors  to  unravel  the  hopeless 
tangle.     The  instincts  of  human  nature  revolt  at 
the  horrible  thought  of  annihilation,  and  even  the 
lowest  races  of  men  entertain  crude  ideas  of  life 


MAN,  CONSIDERED    AS    A    CANDLE.  143 

beyond  the  grave.  It  is  better  to  accept  this  hope 
of  immortality  as  a  matter  of  course  than  be 
come  a  prey  to  self-tormenting  doubts,  and  become 
insane  in  the  hopeless  efforts  to  comprehend  the  in 
comprehensible.  But  if  man  dying  shall  live  again, 
what  of  the  beasts  ?  Is  there  any  difference  in  the 
phenomena  which  attend  the  birth,  life  and  death 
of  a  dog  and  those  which  mark  the  exit  and  en 
trance  of  man?  Do  they  not  each  gasp  the  same, 
and  are  not  the  writhings  and  convulsions  of  the 
supreme  moment  the  same,  to  all  human  appear 
ances,  in  either  case?  The  dog  has  a  certain 
amount  of  intelligence  in  life.  It  is  less  than  that 
of  a  complete  man  and  greater  than  that  of  an 
idiotic  man.  But  this  is  getting  near  to  dangerous 
ground  again  —  ground  which  has  quaked  and 
yawned  beneath  the  tread  of  others  ;  in  whose 
fateful  furrows  stand  the  dread  danger-posts  warn 
ing  the  fool-hardy  from  nearer  approach.  "Man 
dieth  and  wasteth  away  ;  yea,  man  giveth  up  the 
ghost,  and  where  is  he?  "  Ay,  where  is  he? 


THE  FEMALE  SPIDER. 


"  The  spider's  touch,  how  exquisitely  fine !  " — Pope. 

OF  all  the  extensive  family  of  Arachnida,  the 
spider  under  consideration  is  the  most  interesting, 
while  its  habits  are  least  understood.  The  female 
spider  spins,  but  it  is  not  every  spinster  who  is  a 
spider.  Indeed,  the  sex  generally  are  the  flies 
that  tangle  themselves  in  webs  of  others'  weaving, 
and  are  devoured — while  the  female  spider  is  an 
anomaly — the  avenging  Nemesis  of  her  sex — spin 
ning  and  weaving  meshes  for  the  ensnarement  of 
the  common  enemy.  She  is  an  innocent  looking 
creature,  and  the  threads  with  which  she  binds  her 
victims  are  of  the  finest  gossamer,  though  they  have 
the  strength  of  bars  of  steel.  The  more  we  study 
the  habits  of  this  creature,  the  more  we  are  lost  in 
amazement.  We  can  trace  her  origin  to  no  dis 
tinct  source,  and  she  is  not  amenable  to  the  laws  of 
production.  At  some  time  in  her  life  she  has  prob 
ably  been  a  fly  herself,  and  struggled  to  shake  of 
the  thraldom  of  some  disgusting  male  spider's  web, 
only  succeeded  by  doffing  the  characteristics  of  the 
fly  species,  and  becoming  a  spider.  And  in  sup 
port  of  this  theory  we  quote  Holy  Writ,  for  is  it  not 


THE    FEMALE    SPIDER.  145 

written,  that   they   shall  hatch  cockatrice's  eggs, 
and  whatever  is  crushed  turneth  to  a  spider? 

There  is  one  peculiarity  about  the  female  spider's 
mode  of  capturing  her  prey  which  is  worthy  of 
special  mention.  Ordinarily  the  entanglement  of 
a  fly  in  the  web  is  the  work  of  accident  or  fate. 
Gaily  buzzing  around,  careless  of  anything,  save 
the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  with  a  blind  confidence 
in  her  supposed  ability  to  take  care  of  herself,  the 
fly  dashes  into  the  web  artfully  spread  in  some  fa 
vorite  haunt,  and  in  a  moment  her  wings  are 
bound.  She  may  buzz  piteously  and  struggle  des 
perately,  but  to  no  avail.  She  is  devoured  by  the 
hairy,  hideous  monster,  or  only  escapes  terribly 
lacerated,  unable  to  compete  with  her  more  fortu 
nate  fellow  flies  in  the  mad  whirl,  and  an  object  of 
pity,  if  not  of  contempt. 

The  female  spider's  web,  however,  is  plainly  vis 
ible,  and  the  victim  buzzes  into  it  with  his  eyes 
open.  But  he  labors  under  a  singular  delusion. 
Judging  only  from  outside  appearances,  he  makes 
the  fatal  mistake  of  believing  this  spider  to  be  no 
more  than  a  common  fly,  all  the  time  fancying  he 
is  the  spider  that  is  going  to  devour  her.  The 
meshes  are  woven  around  him,  and  still  he  fails  to 
comprehend  the  situation.  He  whets  his  appetite 
by  gloating  over  this  spider  so  like  a  fly  in  her 
make-up,  as  to  deceive  the  very  elect  of  spiders, 
and  more  hopelessly  entangles  himself  in  the  effort 
to  approach  nearer.  Finally,  the  critical  moment 
draws  near,  and  with  an  appetite  sharpened  by 
pursuit,  he  attempts  a  dinner.  He  makes  a  dis- 
10 


146  THE    FEMALE    SPIDER. 

covery  which  leaves  him  utterly  bewildered.  The 
fly  is  not  a  fly  after  all,  but  a  spider,  infinitely  more 
subtle  than  his  kind.  After  a  desperate  struggle 
he  accepts  the  situation,  and  becomes  a  helpless 
fly,  still  retaining  all  the  savage  instincts  of  the 
spider.  He  suffers  the  horrors  of  Tantalus,  "in 
sight  of  heaven,  enduring  hell."  Dead  Sea  fruit 
is  his  only  diet.  His  spider  instincts  rage  within 
him,  and  his  fangs  whet  themselves  in  impotent 
rage.  This  is  the  female  spider's  diet.  She  does 
not  devour  him  bodily,  after  the  manner  of  ordinary 
spiders,  but  she  feeds  on  his  sighs  and  groans,  and 
his  complaining  buzzings  are  music  to  her  ears. 
He  becomes  enamored  of  the  thousand  delicate 
little  filaments  which  bind  him  ;  but  at  times  there 
comes  a  revulsion,  and  he  makes  a  fierce  struggle 
for  freedom.  With  a  syren  song,  she  again  rouses 
his  spider  instincts  to  the  pursuit,  and  weaves  a 
stronger  web  about  him. 

She  welcomes  to  her  net  those  foolish,  noisy  flies. 
Here  is  a  great  blundering  booby  of  a  blue-bottle  ; 
with  a  pompous  strut  and  a  sonorous  song,  he 
dashes  in  the  midst  of  the  silken  threads,  and,  like 
an  insect  Samson,  is  straightway  taken  in  the 
toils.  There  is  something  ludicrous  in  the  conster 
nation  with  which  he  meets  his  defeat,  and  some 
thing  contemptible  in  the  craven  submission  with 
which  he  suffers  himself  to  be  bound,  wing  and 
foot,  without  another  effort  to  accomplish  his  orig 
inal  purpose.  And  then  comes  the  rapacious 
dragon  fly,  with  a  noise  like  the  blare  of  a  trum 
pet.  It  takes  longer  to  settle  him,  and  he  is  ever 


THE    FEMALE    SPIDER.  147 

restive  in  the  meshes.  And  then  there  is  the  gad 
fly,  and  the  horsefly,  and  the  shoo-fly,  all  finding 
comfortable  entanglement  in  the  web,  with  an  oc 
casional  mosquito,  and  now  and  then  a  gaudy  but 
terfly,  odorous  with  balm  of  a  thousand  flowers. 
It  is  curious  as  well  as  instructive  to  watch  the  vin- 
dictiveness  with  which  the  spoiler  grabs  her  prey. 
There  is  no  "will  you  wralk  into  my  parlor  air" 
about  her  now  ;  no  shy,  timid  glances  as  when  she 
lurked  in  the  far  corner  of  her  silken  den, 
waiting,  watching  for  the  poor,  foolish  one  now 
writhing  beneath  her  sharp  stiletto.  All  pretense 
of  virtue  has  vanished.  She  is  only  a  wrathful, 
greedy  spider,  feeding  on  her  helpless  victim  in 
gloating  silence  and  with  hideous  mien.  Soon  she 
will  have  rent  those  gauzy  wings  that  so  lately 
floated  on  the  ambient  air,  or  have  borne  away  the 
delicate  remains  of  the  feast  to  her  secret  larder ; 
then,  with  swift  and  silent  shuttle,  she  will  repair 
the  meshes  now  torn  or  tangled  by  the  late  strug 
gle,  and  set  her  wiles  again. 


DIED. 


AT  THE  residence  of  her  father,  Miss  Flora  K.  Harding,  daugh 
ter  of  George  C.  Harding,  aged  19  years. 

A  noble  life,  full  of  promise,  has  gone  out  in 
shame.  She  loved  much  and  she  suffered  much. 
Her  sorrowful  soul,  released  from  earth-burdens, 
has  gone  to  meet  its  God,  to  lay  before  Him  the 
cruel  wrongs  for  which  earth  has  no  redress. 
Poor  ,  fond  heart !  ill-starred  from  birth,  your 
tempestuous  beatings  are  stilled,  your  restless 
longings  will  trouble  no  more  !  Her's  was  a  joy 
less  childhood,  warped  and  distorted  by  relentless 
circumstances.  Her  womanhood  is  blasted  in  the 
bud.  Despite  unfortunate  traits  and  unhappy 
moods,  in  which  she  seemed  to  move  and  act  as  if 
under  some  wierd  spell,  her  underlying  nature 
was  noble,  generous,  unselfish,  self-sacrificing, 
with  an  honest  pride  which  would  scorn  to  do  a 
mean  action.  The  unhappy  circumstances  attend 
ing  her  childhood  had  impressed  her  nature  with 
an  ineffaceable  tinge  of  melancholy.  She  was  de 
spondent  always,  rather  than  sanguine.  "  Papa," 
she  said  to  me  once,  when  a  cherished  desire  was 
thwarted,  and  I  was  endeavoring  to  console  her ; 


DIED.  149 

"  don't  distress  yourself  about  me.  My  entire 
life  has  been  a  disappointment."  Notwithstand 
ing  the  sombre  tints  in  her  nature,  she  was  at  times 
almost  unnaturally  vivacious.  But  even  in  her 
most  cheery  moments  an  apparent  consciousness 
of  the  falseness  and  hollowness  of  earthly  things 
could  be  noted.  Her  deepest  and  profoundest 
feeling,  the  one  which  was  ever  present  and  was 
never  overshadowed  by  doubts,  or  obscured  by 
less  worthy  sentiments,  was  love  for  her  unhappy 
father.  This  love  had  taken  root  in  her  infantile 
mind,  at  an  age  when  impressions  are  easily 
effaced,  but  it  grew  without  nurture,  and  seemed 
to  strike  deeper  its  roots,  and  grow  more  luxuriant 
in  leaf  and  bloom,  the  more  it  was  deprived  of 
light  and  air.  It  survived  absence,  apparent  neg 
lect,  hostile  influences  ;  and  so  soon  as  she  was  of 
age  she  came  to  the  father  whose  love  she  had 
never  doubted. 

In  her  religious  nature  she  was  peculiar.  She 
had  the  profoundest  veneration  for  Deity,  and  a 
sublime  confidence  in  his  justness,  but  she  had  no 
sympathy  with  creeds,  or  the  forms  of  religion. 
She  believed  in  the  law  of  compensation,  and 
having  known  but  little  save  unhappiness,  she 
believed  that  the  future,  either  on  earth  or  in 
Heaven,  had  recompense  in  store  for  her.  She 
often  jested  on  the  subject  of  suicide,  and  on 
one  occasion  being  reproved,  and  told  that  God 
frowned  upon  self-murder,  she  said,  "Papa,  I  am 
not  afraid  of  God." 

There  are  fewer  brighter  intellects  than  Flora's, 


150  DIED. 

and  her  future  was  full  of  promise.  She  had  a 
remarkably  felicitous  command  of  language,  and 
was  exceedingly  versatile.  While  she  knew  noth 
ing  of  politics,  her  familiarity  with  recondite  sub 
jects  was  wonderful.  In  reasoning  she  was  subtle 
and  in  thought  she  was  powerful  and  searching. 
She  had  determined  on  literature  as  a  profession, 
and  had  she  lived,  would  have  made  her  mark  in 
the  world  of  letters. 

The  cruelest  reflection  in  this  hour  of  bitterest 
agony  is  that  her  father  might  have  been  less  stern 
and  more  sympathetic  in  his  intercourse  with  her, 
though  he  could  not  have  loved  her  more.  With 
two  such  natures  an  estrangement  is  apt  to  raise 
up  an  invisible  but  impassable  barrier,  and  while 
there  may  be  no  spoken  word  of  unkindness, 
the  reserve  is  infinitely  more  cruel  and  cutting 
than  words  could  be.  The  unhappy  secret — the 
first  withholding  of  confidence  —  caused  such  a 
feeling,  and  this  was  only  broken  down  the  night 
before  her  death,  when,  on  her  father's  breast,  with 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  in  heart-broken  sobs  she 
told  him  the  dreadful  story,  and  pleaded  for  his 
forgiveness,  not  so  much  for  her  sin  as  for  the 
want  of  confidence  in  him.  All  was  forgiven,  and 
father  and  daughter  once  more  reconciled.  Even 
then  she  had  determined  on  suicide,  and  that  last, 
heart-breaking  interview,  so  sweet  to  remember 
and  yet  so  sad,  must  be  invested  with  all  the  sanc 
tity  of  a  death-bed  revelation. 

Through  that  long  last  day  of  suffering  I  watched 
with  her,  alternately  cheered  by  hope  and  torn  with 


DIED.  151 

the  anguish  of  despair,  and  with  the  last  gasp,  as  the 
.suffering  soul  took  its  tremulous  flight,  two  great 
tears  came  from  the  filmy  eyes  and  rolled  over  the 
face,  across  which  was  stealing  the  shadow  of  the 
Death  Angel.  She  has  gone  to  her  God,  who  will 
judge  her  not  by  the  iron  rule  which  brings  all  na 
tures  to  a  common  measurement,  but  according  to 
her  deserts.  God  could  not  be  God  without  being 
just,  and  with  him  I  leave  my  daughter.  But  it 
does  seem  as  if  he  should  have  some  thunderbolt, 
red  with  uncommon  wrath,  to  strike  the  wretch 
who  pursues  his  victim,  with  foul  and  venomous 
tongue,  into  the  grave  itself. 

Oh   loving    heart — daughter — soul-scarred    with 
suffering — sinful  yet  pure  and  white — Farewell ! 


BALES,  HIMSELF. 


"  BALES,  you're  drunk  !  " 

He  was  sitting  on  the  bridge,  his  long  legs  dang 
ling  loosely  in  the  air,  while  he  occasionally 
squirted  tobacco  juice  into  the  muddy  water  of  the 
canal. 

"  That's  about  the  size  of  it,  Georgey.  You  ac 
cidentally  stumbled  on  the  truth  that  time.  As  it's 
the  fust  offense,  though,  I  won't  lay  it  up  agin  ye. 
Yes,  I  am  drunk,  moderately.  Ef  I  had  a  biled 
owl,  I'd  get  drunker  nor  one." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  home?  " 

Mr.  Bales  chuckled  silently. 

"  I  reckon,  Georgey,  you  ain't  been  down  about 
the  grocery  lately  or  you'd  'a  heerd  of  it.  Fact  is, 
I  das'nt  go  home.  Been  a  layin'  out  for  three 
nights.  Betse  an'  Lize  'ud  make  it  extremely  on- 
healthy  for  me  jest  now.  What's  the  matter?  Well, 
you  jest  brush  the  seat  o'  them  striped  breeches, 
an'  hang  them  candle  sticks  o'  your'n  over  this  cat- 
arict  alongside  o'  me,  an'  I'll  tell  ye.  None  o' 
your  sniggerin',  you  durned  Arab.  I'll  do  all  the 
laughin'  that's  necessary.  Gi'  me  a  chaw." 

Rolling  up  a  ball  of  fine  cut  about  the  size  of  a 


BALES,   HIMSELF.  1 53 

bantam  egg,  Mr.  Bales  thrust  it  into  his  western 
jaw,  and  continued. 

"  Did  I  tell  you  'bout  Betse  an'  Lize  gettin'  fash 
ionable?  Yes?  Well,  you  see,  it  has  allus  gone 
agin  the  grain  with  me,  this  tomfoolery  o'  hair  an' 
hoops,  an'  bustles,  but  et  you  know  anything  about 
women,  George,  an'  I  reckon  you  do,  you  know  a 
man  might  jest  as  well  give  in  fust  as  last,  fur  they 
will  have  their  own  way,  durn  'em.  An'  by  the 
way,  did  it  ever  strike  you  that  they're  gittin'  to  be 
bigger  fools  every  year?  It  ain't  only  the  grownup 
women  as  makes  skeerkrows  of  themselves,  but 
the  little  gals,  who  should  be  makin'  dirt  pies,  or 
ridin'  a  see-saw  a-straddle,  has  got  at  it,  an'  are 
jest  as  big  fools  as  their  sisters.  Every  brat  ten 
years  old  must  have  her  shinnion,  an'  her  high- 
heeled  shoes,  an'  her  flubdubberies.  And  what's 
wuss,  the  old  uns  encourages  'em  in  it.  Every  lit 
tle  chit  must  carry  herself  like  a  lady,  as  they  call 
it,  an'  they  even  go  so  fur  as  to  counterfeit  natur', 
to  make  'em  appear  older'n  they  are.  D'ye  notice, 
George,  what  a  percocious  d'velopment  there  is 
'bout  the  bosom  o'  these  little  critters?  Cotton?  Of 
course  it's  cotton,  or  rags,  or  bran,  or  somethin'  of 
the  kind.  We  all  know  it  ain't  natur',  for  natur 
never  makes  any  show  o'  that  kind  until  there's 
some  use  for  it,  and  in  this  here  temprit  zone  the 
sex  is  hardly  calc'lated  for  the  juties  o'  maternity 
at  the  age  o'  ten  years.  But  w'at's  the  use  o'  this 
sham?  Now,  w'en  a  full  grown  woman  finds  her 
self  lackin'  in  this  matter  o'  shape,  I  can't  say  as  I 
kin  blame  her  for  flyin'  to  curled  hair,  Spanish 


154  BALES,   HIMSELF. 

moss,  or  cotton.     There  is  some  excuse  fur'  her. 
Leastways  there's  a  motive  in  it. 

"  I  tell  you,  George,  the  female  portion  o'  the 
great  North  American  race  ripens  soon  enough  fur 
any  use,  an'  it  don't  need  any  hot-house  fur  'em. 
About  Betse?  Well,  I'm  comin'  to  that.  You  see 
Lize  has  been  going  to  school,  an'  soshiatin'  with 
grown-up  gals  until  her  durned  tow-head  is  full  o' 
fashion  an'  fellers,  an'  gittin'  married.  But  that's 
not  the  worst  of  it.  George,  would  you  b'leeve  it? 
Betse  has  got  it  worse  than  Lize.  She's  got  to 
runnin'  with  that  old  catamaran,  Mrs.  Flounce,  the 
milliner,  an'  she's  been  adding  to  her  fooleries, 
little  by  little,  until  she  comes  out  in  what  she  calls 
full  dress.  She's  a  regular  show.  She  keeps  the 
house  stunk  up  with  all  sorts  o'  perfumes,  an'  puts 
pow^der  an'  some  sort  o'  chalky  stuff'  they  call 
"  Sweet  Sixteen"  on  her  face.  An'  then  she  con 
cluded  she  must  give  a  party  to  a  lot  o'  old  hens 
and  their  broods  which  she  has  got  acquainted  with 
in  the  neighborhood.  She  kept  it  devilish  sly  from 
me,  only  I  saw  there  was  a  heap  o'  fixin'  up  an' 
bakin'  goin'  on.  Last  Tuesday  night  I  went  home 
an'  found  Lize  in  an  awful  splutter.  She  hed  on  a 
new  white  dress  made  with  low  neck  an'  short 
sleeves,  an'  on  the  table  was  lyin'  one  o'  them 
monstrous  hair  fixins  which  they  call  Shetlin 
braids.  You  know  what  I  mean,  George — one  o' 
them  things  made  o'  rolls  o'  dead  people's  hair 
over  a  frame-wrork  of  somethin'  cheaper,  an'  three 
tails  o'  curled  hair  a-hangin'  alone.  It  was  a  trifle 
less'n  a  hay-cock  in  size,  but  it  made  an  awful 


BALES,    HIMSELF.  155 

pile.  An'  then  Lize  told  me  about  the  party,  an' 
you  kin  bet  your  bottom  entrail  I  was  hoppin'  mad. 
I  d — d  around  right  lively  for  a  while,  but  Lize 
took  it  cool,  an'  told  me  to  keep  my  shirt  on.  An' 
then  I  said,  sort  o'  sourkastic  like,  says  I  : 

"Lize,  you'd  better  keep  your  own  shirt  on. 
Leastways  you'd  better  put  on  one  that's  a  little 
longer  at  the  top." 

You  see  Lize  ain't  no  use  fur  any  o'  that  cotton 
or  curled  hair  we  was  talkin'  about,  and  she's  fool 
enough  to  be  proud  o'  her  white  skin.  When  I 
told  her  that  she  didn't  blush  a  durned  bit.  She 
only  laughed,  an'  told  me  to  "  Honey  swot  kee 
Molly  Pouse  !  "  Now  what'n  hell  d'ye  s'pose  the 
wench  meant  by  that  lingo,  George?  I  don't  know 
Molly  Pouse,  an'  what's  she  got  to  do  with  it,  any 
how?  Reckon  she's  one  o'  them  whisk-y,  frisky, 
teeterin',  gigglin'  heifers  at  the  seminary  where 
Lize  is  gettin'  polished.  But  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be 
"honey  swotted"  at  by  any  one  o'  my  own  kids. 
I  tell  you  I  was  madder'n  a  bull  fur  a  little  while, 
an'  I  got  out  a  green  cowhide  which  I  keep  to  lick 
the  dogs  with,  an'  I  had  a  devil  uv  a  notion  to 
give  Lize  about  twenty-five,  and  Betse  a  hundred, 
but  I  thought  better  of  it.  You  see,  George,  I've 
alms  been  a  drunken,  hell-raisin',  trifling,  or'nary 
cuss  ;  but  I  never  yit  lifted  a  hand  agin  the  wife  of 
my  bosom,  an'  never  felt  like  it  till  she  got  to  be 
sech  a  durned  fool.  I  b'leeve  with  the  play  actors, 
that  the  man  who  raises  a  hand  agin  a  woman, 
'cept  when  she  deserves  it,  is  a  coward  whom  it 
were  base  flattery  to  call  an  insect.  So,  instead  o' 


156  BALES,    HIMSELF. 

lammin'  Lize,  I  sot  down  in  a  corner  an'  sulked. 
Bimeby  she  went  down  stairs  to  consult  with 
Betse,  an'  I  went  to  the  mantle  board  to  light  a 
seegyar,  when  I  seen  a  bottle  o'  medicine.  Jest 
about  that  time,  George,  an  idee  struck  me,  an'  I 
laid  down  on  the  floor  an'  laughed  until  I  nearly 
busted  a  blood-vessel.  I  must  tell  you  about  the 
medicine.  It  was  for  Betse.  Sick?  Bless  you, 
no  !  She  never  was  sick  a  day  in  her  life,  'cept  on 
occasions  when,  'cordin'  to  my  idees,  it's  no  dis 
grace  to  be  sick,  an'  then  she  made  mighty  short 
work  o'  it.  But  you  see  sence  she  got  to  runnin' 
with  that  old  catamaran,  she  hed  heerd  her  tellin' 
about  her  durned  nerves,  until  Betse  come  to  think 
a  woman  couldn't  be  respectable  'thout  she  was 
nervous.  Just  think  o'  Betse  with  nerves  !  It's 
the  most  ree-dicklus  idee  ever  heerd  of.  But  any 
way  she  sent  fur  old  Bolus,  an'  he  perscribed  fur 
her  nerves.  George,  d'ye  know  anything  'bout 
drugs?  Yes?  Well,  then,  you  know  there's 
nothin'  in  the  entire  Mattera  Medico  as  stinks 
worse'n  the  valerianate  of  ammonia.  It  ain't  a 
good  square  stink  like  assyfitity,  which  you  can 
wash  off,  or  throw  into  the  alley,  but  it  is  the  aw- 
fulest,  pukinest  smell  in  the  world,  more  stinkin'  'n 
limburg  cheese,  an'  when  you  once  git  it  on  you  it 
hangs  on  like  the  seven  year  each.  Well,  this 
medicine  't  old  Bolus  give  Betse  for  'er  nerves"- 
(Here  Mr.  Bales  laughed  inwardly  and  quietly  for 
fifty  seconds)  "was  mainly  composed  of  valeria 
nate  of  ammonia.  Long  as  you  kep'  it  corked 
tight  it  didn't  matter,  but  the  idee  which  I  heve 


BALES,   HIMSELF.  I  57 

heretofore  mentioned  as  havin'  struck  me,  didn't 
comprise  the  keepin'  of  it  corked  tight.  So  I  jest 
emptied  the  entire  bottle  in  Lize's  Shetlin  braid, 
an'  then  jumped  into  a  biled  shirt,  put  on  my  vel 
vet  close,  an'  notified  Mrs.  Bales  that  I'd  make 
one  o'  that  festive  gatherin'  myself,  ef  she  had  no 
objections.  Betse  didn't  like  it,  but  she  couldn't 
make  any  reasonable  objection.  So  I  tuk  root  in 
the  parlor,  an'  waited  for  the  company. 

That  old  Jezebel  Flounce  was  the  fust  arrival,  of 
course,  an'  then  came,  one  arter  another,  Wash 
Simpkins  with  his  gal,  an'  Bill  Porter  with  his  gal, 
an'  a  lot  o'  counterhoppers  with  their  gals,  an'  a 
whole  lot  o'  others  dropped  in  sort  o'  permiscuous, 
an'  finally  Charley  Shannon,  who's  disposed  to  be 
sweet  on  Lize,  sneaked  in,  lookin'  mighty  oneasy 
in  a  new  suit  an'  a  pair  o'  green  kids.  Lize  was  a 
little  late  in  gettin'  dow^n,  but  she  finally  sailed  in, 
lookin'  mighty  nice,  I  must  say.  I  must  tell  you, 
George,  somethin'  about  Lize,  which  you  probably 
never  knew,  though  you've  known  her  sence  she 
was  knee  high  to  a  duck.  She  can't  smell  a 
durned  bit.  She's  r_  ghtily  ashamed  of  it,  an'  is 
always  smellin'  flowers,  an'  savin',  "  how  nice  I  " 
when  at  the  same  time  she  might  go  right  through 
Si  Keek's  soap  factory,  an'  never  know  the  differ 
ence,  'thout  somebody  told  her.  Well,  when  Lize 
cum  into  the  room  a  bowin'  and  simperin,  and  put- 
tin'  on  an  immense  amount  of  style,  thar  was  sum- 
thin'  of  a  kermotion  among  the  crowd.  Old 
Flounce  held  her  nose,  an'  Betse's  face  got  red- 
der'n  a  beat,  while  the  young  men  looked  at  each 


158  BALES,    HIMSELF. 

other,  an'  kind  o'  snickered.  Lize  went  around 
among  her  company  makin'  herself  agreeable,  but 
somehow  the  young  men  didn't  seem  to  hanker 
arter  her  ez  they  used  to,  and  would  make  some 
excuse  to  sidle  off.  Then  the  gals  begun  to  turn 
pale  'bout  the  gills,  an'  bimeby  one  arter  another 
they  slid  out,  a-holdin  thar  noses  on  the  sly.  All 
this  time  I  was  a-settin'  in  the  corner,  looking 
mighty  demure.  Betse  finally  whispered  sumthin' 
in  Lize's  ear,  an'  she  blushed  scarlet,  and  then 
bolted  up  stairs.  Then  when  I  seed  Betse  a  work- 
in'  over  towards  my  corner,  I  gathered  my  hat  and 
cut.  I  begun  to  conclude  it  wasn't  healthy  fur  me 
about  thar.  Ez  I  was  lumberin'  up  the  street, 
chucklin'  all  over,  I  found  Charley  Shannon,  with 
his  arm  around  a  lamp  post,  a  pukin'  in  the  gutter. 
He's  a  mighty  finnicky  sort  o'  a  young  man  any 
how,  an'  I  really  thought  he'd  turn  inside  out. 
Says  I:  "Mr.  Shannon,  I'm  ashamed  o'  you. 
Who'd  a  thought  as  nice  a  young  man  as  you'd  git 
bilin'  drunk  when  he  was  goin'  into  serciety?" 
Says  he  :  "  Bales,  I  aint  drunk.  I  am  only  sick." 
Says  I :  "What  made  ye  sick,  Charley?"  The 
young  man  didn't  know,  but  said  he  s'pected  he'd 
swallered  a  fly ! 

And  that's  how  I  come  to  be  lavin'  out  for  the 
past  three  days,  Georgey.  I  was  around  pers- 
pectin'  this  mornin'  to  see  ef  it'd  be  safe  to  venture 
back,  and  from  sum  remarks  I  overheard  Betse  an' 
Lize  makin'  techin'  the  undersigned,  I  concluded 
it  won't  be  wholesome.  They  was  a  diggin'  a  hole 
in  the  back  vard  to  burv  the  shinnion  in,  and  Betse 


BALES,   HIMSELF.  159 

declared  she'd  hev  a  divorce,  ef  she  hed  to  move 
back  to  Injanny  to  get  it.  But  she  jest  wanted  to 
lay  hands  on  me.  Wouldn't  she  give  me  hankins  ! 
I  tell  ye,  George,  I  never  saw  her  so  worked  up, 
an'  I'm  gettin'  kind  o'  oneasy  'bout  it.  Couldn't 
you  step  round  an'  mollify  the  old  lady?  Tell  her 
ef  I'd  knowed  it  was  goin'  to  stink  so,  I  wouldn't 
a'  done  it.  In  the  meantime,  let's  go  down  to  the 
S'Nichelus  an'  get  some  isters. 


MOON-STRUCK. 


I  WONDER  if  any  of  my  readers  ever  had  a 
moon-stroke.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  the  kind 
of  stroke  to  which  masculine  humanity  is  pecu 
liarly  liable  between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and 
twenty-two,  the  effects  of  which  are  loss  of  appe 
tite,  the  purchase  of  a  rhyming  dictionary,  and 
lavish  expenditure  for  perfumed  hair  oil,  a  cultiva 
tion  of  shirt  collars  and  a  disposition  to  moonlight 
promenades,  and  furnace-like  sighs.  Such  a 
stroke  as  that  comes  from  a  pair  of  bright  eyes, 
rather  than  the  full-orbed  moon,  and,  I  take  it, 
every  man  who  has  something  more  than  mere 
muscle  thumping  against  the  ribs  of  his  left  side, 
has  had  it  at  least  once  in  his  life.  When  I  speak 
of  a  moon-stroke,  I  mean  the  mysterious  and  in 
explicable  influence  which  that  white,  deceitful, 
and  lovely  orb  exercises  on  the  human  organism 
under  certain  circumstances — an  influence  which 
baffles  the  surgeon's  skill,  and  drives  men  to  mad 
ness  and  death. 

Perhaps  some  skeptical  reader  may  doubt  the 
existence  of  such  a  thing  as  a  moon-stroke.  I 
know  such  things  have  been.  And  why  not? 


MOON-STRUCK.  l6l 

The  moon  exercises  an  influence — a  palpable  and 
powerful,  but  incomprehensible  influence — on  the 
tides — on  vegetation — on  the  weather — on  the  tem 
per  and  temperament  of  individuals,  Ask  your 
Dutch  gardener.  He  will  tell  you  that  the  moon 
exercises  a  decided  influence  on  vegetation  ;  that 
certain  crops  which  bear  their  fruit  beneath  the 
earth  must  be  planted  in  the  "  dark  "  of  the  moon, 
and  that  other  crops,  which  bear  fruit  above 
ground,  must  be  planted  in  the  "light"  of  the 
moon.  A  farmer  will  also  tell  you  that  rails  made 
of  a  tree  cut  in  the  dark  of  the  moon  will  rot 
quicker  than  those  cut  when  the  moon  is  full. 
These  things  may  be  sneered  at,  but  experience  is 
often  in  advance  of  science.  I,  for  one,  believe  in 
the  moon.  I  believe  that  it  meddles  to  an  unwar 
rantable  extent  with  sub-lunar  affairs.  I  believe 
that  it  also  exercises  a  baneful  influence  on  people 
under  certain  circumstances.  I  have  seen  sailors 
off  the  Florida  coast,  lying  down  to  sleep  beneath 
a  brilliant  tropical  moon,  take  as  much  pains  to 
shield  themselves  from  its  beams  as  they  would 
to  protect  them  from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  tropi 
cal  sun.  Sailors  are  naturally  superstitious,  and 
those  of  whom  I  speak  firmly  believed  that  it 
was  almost  certain  death  to  fall  asleep  in  the  glare 
of  a  full  moon.  A  grain  of  truth  is  found  at  the 
bottom  of  most  popular  superstitions,  and  so  it 
proved  with  regard  to  this.  At  the  time  I  was 
skeptical.  Afterwards  I  came  to  believe  fully  in 
the  superstitions  of  the  sailors  on  the  Florida  coast. 
I  was  moon-struck  myself.  This  is  how  it  came 
11 


l62  MOON-STRUCK. 

about.  I  was  in  the  arm}-,  a  ferocious,  rebel-eat 
ing  defender  of  my  country.  The  regiment  to 
which  I  was  attached  went  to  New  Orleans  \vith 
the  cock-eyed  warrior  nicknamed  "the  Beast," 
and  was  among  the  first  to  land  at  the  wharf,  its 
splendid  brass  band,  writh  a  grim  humor  worthy  of 
Suwarrow,  striking  up — 

"  Picayune  Butler's  coming,  coming — 
Picayune  Butler's  coming  to  town," 

as  the  cable  was  made  fast,  for  the  delectation  of' 
the  rebel  riff-raff  which  thronged  the  wharf  to  wit 
ness  the  landing  of  the  Goths  and  Vandals.  After 
performing  "prodigies  of  valor"  for  a  month,  in 
the  way  of  picking  up  stray  steamboats  from  their 
hiding  places  in  the  neighboring  rivers  and  bay 
ous,  exhuming  brass  cannons  buried  in  the  swamps 
and  sacking  an  interior  town  in  revenge  for  the 
murder  of  two  of  our  men,  we  were  ordered  to 
Baton  Rouge,  and  encamped  in  a  beautiful  mag 
nolia  grove  about  a  mile  from  the  river,  with  a 
cheerful  grave-yard  in  front  and  another  on  the 
left  flank.  By  one  of  those  happy  oversights  which 
occur  in  rapid  movements,  we  left  our  tents  behind 
at  Algiers,  and  didn't  get  them  for  a  fortnight. 
The  grove  in  which  we  pitched  our  camp-kettjes 
was  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the  entire  South. 
The  stately  magnolias,  in  full  bloom,  loaded  the 
atmostphere  with  their  delicious  fragrance,  while 
smaller  trees,  matted  with  a  luxuriant  overgrowth 
of  muscadines  and  wild  grape  vines,  formed  nat 
ural  arbors,  impervious  to  rain  or  dew.  Hundreds 
of  wild  mocking  birds  fluttered  among  the  fol- 


MOON-STRUCK.  163 

iage,  while  little  chameleon  lizards,  now  bright 
green,  and  then  a  dull  bark  color,  hung  by  their 
heels,  head  downward,  and  curiously  ogled,  with 
their  bright,  twinkling  eyes,  the  sun-browned  and 
dirty  intruders,  who  lolled  beneath  the  trees,  and 
with  boisterous  shouts  disturbed  the  solitude.  It 
was  just  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  with  neat 
residences-,  rose-embowered  and  hedged  in  with 
the  lovely  white  jessamine,  then  in  full  flower,  on 
one  hand,  and  near  by  corn  fields,  with  fences 
overgrown  with  the  Cherokee  rose,  a  luxuriant 
vining  shrub,  bearing  a  profusion  of  white  flowers. 
It  was  near  the  full  moon,  in  the  lovely  month  of 
June,  and,  lulled  by  the  drowsy  hum  of  myriad  in 
sects,  the  men  would  lie  down  after  tattoo  beneath 
the  grape  arbors  or  around  the  gnarled  roots  of 
the  magnolias,  in  the  glorious  light  of  a  Southern 
moon,  sifted  through  the  green  enameled  leaves,  or 
poured  in  floods  of  radiance  through  the  open  spaces, 
the  glare  being  strong  enough  to  render  ordinary 
newspaper  print  readable.  The  regiment  was  in 
high  health,  and  so  long  as  it  did  not  rain,  no  one 
cared  for  tents  in  this  delightful  weather  and  with 
such  surroundings. 

A  few  nights  of  this  life,  however,  were  enough 
to  put  a  large  number  of  men  on  the  sick  list. 
They  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with  them, 
and,  strange  enough,  neither  did  the  surgeons. 
They  complained  of  no  particular  pain,  but  a 
strange  and  oppressive  feeling,  in  which  the  blood 
in  the  veins  seemed  like  molten  lead,  and  brain 
and  heart  struggled  beneath  the  weight  of  some  in- 


164  MOON-STRUCK. 

tolerable  burthen.  Many  took  to  the  hospital  and 
soon  got  well,  while  others,  with  that  horror  of 
hospital  life  which  every  good  soldier  feels,  clung 
to  the  camp  and  grew  rapidly  worse.  Soon  it  got 
whispered  around  that  it  was  the  moon,  and  the 
more  prudent  of  the  men  took  care  to  shield  them 
selves  from  its  baneful  influence. 

I  was  moon-struck  with  the  rest. 

I  had  been  sleeping  at  the  root  of  a  large  mag 
nolia  with  a  favorite  sergeant,  and  soon  began  to 
feel  some  weird  influence  unsettling  and  disorgan 
izing  my  nervous  system.  I  often  awoke  in  the 
night  with  a  start,  a  nameless  terror  lying  upon 
me,  and  found  the  moonlight  falling  full  upon  my 
face,  while  the  dismal  owls  hooted  and  chattered 
in  the  branches  overhead.  My  comrade  was  af 
fected  similarly,  only  more .  severely.  He  was 
taken  to  the  hospital,  and,  without  any  apparent 
physical  cause,  died  raving  mad.  Finally,  I  be 
thought  me  of  the  superstition  of  the  Florida  sail 
ors,  and  henceforth  shunned  the  moonlight.  In  a 
short  time  my  symptoms  disappeared,  and  I  recov 
ered  from  my  moon-stroke.  But  I  have  never  been 
on  good  terms  with  that  deceitful  planet  since. 

If  any  one  is  disposed  to  doubt  this  supposed  in 
fluence  of  the  moon,  let  me  call  his  attention  to 
the  phenomena  of  sun-stroke.  What  is  it  that 
causes  men  to  drop  and  die  in  the  streets  of  our 
crowded  cities  in  July  and  August?  Not  the  mere 
matter  of  heat,  certainly  ;  for  men  who  work  in 
engine  rooms  and  about  furnaces  can  bear  many 
more  degrees  of  heat,  with  little  or  no  inconve- 


MOON-STRUCK.  165 

nience,  than  that  which  kills  people  by  a  sun-stroke. 
A  puddler  in  a  rolling  mill  is  literally  roasted 
•every  day  of  his  life,  and  men  have  been  known  to 
go  into  an  oven  with  a  roast  of  beef  and  remain 
until  the  meat  was  thoroughly  cooked.  It  is  some 
chemical  action  of  the  sun's  ravs  which  produces 
death.  And  is  it  not  possible  that  there  is  a  per 
nicious  and  fatal  chemistry  in  a  tropical  moon 
light? 


DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 


ALL  my  life  I  have  been  an  admirer  of  dogs — so 
much  so,  that  I  never  meet  one  in  the  street,  if  he 
be  at  all  presentable,  without  an  inclination  to  stop 
and  exchange  compliments  of  the  day — to  tell  him 
the  political  news  and  business  prospects,  and  re 
ceive  in  exchange  an  account  of  his  chase  of  the 
neighbor's  cat  last  night ;  his  tremendous  fight  with 
the  rural  dog  under  wood-hauler's  wagon,  and  his 
luck  or  ill  luck  in  foraging  for  bones.  There  is  so 
much  human  nature  in  dogs,  that  I  can  not  find  it 
in  my  heart  to  deny  them  the  possession  of  souls 
to  lose  or  save,  were  it  not  for  one  peculiarity  so 
utterly  out  of  character  as  to  overset  the  human 
hypothesis,  and  reduce  my  four-legged  friends  to 
the  level  of  brutish  beasts.  To  begin  with  the  hu 
man  characteristics  of  the  dog.  What  is  more  hu 
man  than  the  conduct  of  a  dog  in  a  dog  fight?  I 
don't  mean  his  fight — the  fight  which  he  originates, 
and  in  which  he  is  immediately  concerned — the 
fight  in  which  he  gets  his  ears  lacerated  and  his- 
legs  "  chawed"  off.  I  speak  of  fights  in  which  he 
ought  to  be  a  disinterested  spectator,  were  he  not 


DOGS    THAT    I    HAVE    KNOWN.  167 

possessed  of  human  weaknesses.  Look  at  Crunch 
asleep  on  the  doorstep.  Drays  and  omnibusses 
thunder  over  the  stony  street — children  play  around 
him,  and  there  he  lies,  "  dreaming  of  chase  or 
fray."  Touch  him  with  your  foot  and  he  lazily  un 
closes  one  eye,  sees  that  it  is  only  a  silly  joke,  and 
relapses  into  the  arms  of  the  canine  Morpheus, 
perhaps  with  a  muttered  anathema,  in  dog  latin, 
on  your  inconsiderate  interference  with  his  post 
prandial  siesta.  But  let  a  dog  fight  be  inaugurated 
anywhere  within  a  radius  of  two  squares,  and  wit 
ness  the  marvelous  transformation.  In  an  instant 
he  is  quivering  with  excitement.  Taking  the  bear 
ings  of  the  sound,  he  rushes  off  at  headlong  speed, 
falling  in  with  other  dogs  bent  on  the  same  errand. 
He  runs  cheek  by  jowl  with  his  bitterest  enemy — 
the  dog  across  the  way — without  stopping  to  snarl 
at  him.  Arriving  at  the  ground,  he  and  all  the 
other  spectators  pitch  in  without  knowing  anything 
of  the  merits  of  the  dispute,  invariably  fastening 
on  the  under  dog.  In  this  way  I  have  seen  some 
poor  fiste  attacked  by  a  larger  dog,  literally  lifted 
off  the  ground  by  the  arrival  of  reinforcements — a 
dozen  canine  muzzles  fastened  upon  him,  each 
pulling  in  a  contrary  direction. 

This  is  eminently  human.    ^ 

When  a  fellow-creature  gets  a  start  down  hill, 
everybody  hastens  to  give  an  accelerating  kick. 

The  parallel  is  a  little  short,  however,  and  the 
dog  .is  beneath  the  human  in  this,  that  he  respects 
sex.  No  dog,  however  dissipated  or  depraved,  is 


1 68         UOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 

mean  enough  to  attack  a  female.  With  human 
creatures,  sex  is  a  matter  of  no  account. 

Again  ;  notice  your  dog  when  he  comes  suddenly 
upon  a  female  of  the  species.  What  a  sudden  and 
complete  transformation,  and  how  positively  hand 
some  he  makes  himself,  all  at  once.  [Charles 
Reade  has  alluded  to  this  in  one  of  his  novels, 
but  it  is  true,  nevertheless.]  How  we  are  reminded 
of  certain  two-legged  puppies  by  the  sudden  friski- 
ness  which  has  overtaken  our  four-legged  friend. 

Now  w-e  come  to  the  evidence  for  the  defense. 

The  dog  is  unlike  the  human  in  this,  that  there 
is  no  dross  of  selfishness  in  his  friendships.  The 
dog  is  not  mercenary.  He  is  a  faithful  friend  until 
death.  In  the  language  of  the  pathetic  little  ballad 
of  "Old  Dog  Tray,"  which  some  of  my  friends 
may  have  heard  some  years  since — 

"Beef  can  not  coax  him  away." 

No  odds  how  poor  you  are,  or  how  insufficiently 
your  larder  may  be  supplied,  the  dog  you  have 
raised  from  a  pup  is  constant  in  his  love.  He  will 
cheerfully  endure  cold,  hunger  and  cruel  treatment, 
rather  than  give  you  up.  He  does  not  desert  you 
in  misfortune,  but  is  constant  through  life,  and  in 
this  is  either  more  or  less  than  human. 

But  this  generalization  will  never  do.  I  started 
out  to  tell  of  individual  dogs — not  to  write  a  dog 
matic  essay  on  dogs  in  the  abstract. 

The  first  dog  of  any  character  I  remember  was 
"Old  Bounce."  O.  B.  was  a  "  yaller"  brindle, 
more  mastiff  than  anything  else,  and  had  lived 
long  in  this  cruel  world,  during  which  time  he  had 


DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN.          169 

established    a    character    for    honesty,    truth    and 
veracity  which   was    the  envy  and   admiration  of 
every    dog   in    the    neighborhood.      Old    Bounce 
could  be  trusted  with  untold  meat,  and  could  sleep 
with  a  sheep  without  developing  a  "hankering" 
for   mutton.      He    never   lied   by   barking   up   an 
empty  tree  in  squirrel  hunting,  and  was  reliable  as 
a  watch-dog.     When  I  first  knew  Old  Bounce  he 
was  a  pensioner  on  full  pay,  being  kept  in  affluence 
on  account  of  the  good  he  had  done.     Strange  as 
it  may  seem,  having  passed  through  the  dangers  of 
puppyhood  and  doghood  with  honor  untarnished, 
Bounce  became  demoralized  in  his  old  age.     One 
day  some  hams  were  put  out  to  sun,  and  one  of 
them  was  missing  when  it  came  to  a  count.    There 
was  consternation  in  the  household.     Circumstan 
tial  evidence  pointed  to  Old  Bounce,  but  they  were 
loth  to  suspect  him.     Patram,  one  of  the  colored 
people,  volunteered  to   solve  the  problem  with  a 
little  black  fiste  belonging  to  him.     The  fiste  was 
brought  up  to  the  scene  of  the  theft,  and  being  a 
shrewd  dog,   was  made  to  understand  what  was 
required  of  him.     He  circled  around  the  locality, 
and  finally  struck  a  trail  leading  off  through  the 
fields  in  the  direction  of  a  willow  swamp  about  a 
quarter  of  mile  from  the  house.     Old   Bounce  was 
lying  half  asleep  in  the  sun,  lazily  looking  on,  but 
when  the  fiste  took  the  trail,  he  manifested  unusual 
interest  for  an   old  dog  in  the  proceedings.     He 
followed  the  crowd,  overtook  the  little  dog,  and, 
with  erect  bristles,  remonstrated  against  his  med 
dling  in  the  ham  business.     It  is  possible  that  he 


1 7°         DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 

even  offered  to  bribe  him  with  a  liberal  dividend 
of  the  meat,  but  the  faithful  detective  scorned  his 
anger  and  his  promises.  As  the  party  neared  the 
swamp,  Old  B.  got  more  uneasy — his  bristles 
stiffened  like  spikes  of  iron,  and  his  growling,  as 
he  planted  himself  in  front  of  the  little  dog,  be 
came  fiercer  and  more  threatening.  Finally  the 
little  dog  stopped  at  a  point  where  there  were 
signs  of  the  earth  having  been  freshly  stirred,  and 
began  to  dig.  Then  Old  Bounce  bounced  on  him 
and  began  to  "eat  him  up,"  but  was  beaten  off. 
Patram  took  a  stick  and  soon  exhumed  the  miss 
ing  ham,  whereupon  Bounce  tucked  his  tail  be 
tween  his  legs  and  sneaked  off.  He  could  never 
look  one  of  the  family  in  the  face  after  that.  Re 
morse,  like  a  vulture,  gnawed  at  his  vitals,  and  he 
went  into  a  rapid  decline. 

The  recollection  of  another  dog  lingers  pleas 
antly  in  the  memory  of  early  boyhood.  He  was  a 
nondescript,  apparently  made  up  of  half  a  dozen 
different  breeds — short  and  corpulent,  with  little 
legs  looking  like  sticks  driven  into  his  absurd 
body.  "  Ring's  "  best  hold  was  rabbit  hunting — 
not  that  he  ever  caught  a  rabbit,  for  he  couldn't 
catch  a  terrapin  in  a  square  race — but  he  was 
beastly  fond  of  the  sport.  I  am  wrong,  however, 
in  saying  he  never  caught  a  rabbit.  He  did  catch 
one.  It  was  chased  by  other  dogs,  and  jumped 
through  a  crack  in  a  worm  fence.  Ring,  who 
was  watching  the  chase  through  the  fence,  caught 
the  hare  "  on  the  fly."  He  always  accompanied 
us  on  our  rabbit  hunting  excursions,  and  fre- 


DOGS    THAT    I    HAVE    KNOWN.  Ijl 

quently  had  to  be  carried  home,  either  ' i  giving 
out"  on  account  of  his  corpulency,  or  running 
sideways  against  a  tree  and  breaking  his  back. 
He  moved  best  in  straight  lines,  and  was  a  poor 
dog  on  a  curve  or  sharp  turn.  Ring  was  one  of 
those  dogs  who  are  constantly  overestimating  their 
powers.  With  a  word  of  encouragement  he  would 
fly  at  the  largest  bull  dog,  running  at  the  top  of 
his  speed  until  he  arrived  within  a  couple  of  rods 
of  the  enemy,  when  his  gait  would  "gradually 
slacken  until,  just  previous  to  the  moment  of  im 
pact,  he  would  come  to  a  dead  halt,  and  the 
threatened  fight  would  end  in  inglorious  smelling, 
and  scratching  the  earth  with  hind  feet.  At  the 
start  and  for  the  first  fifty  yards,  Ring  would  be 
fully  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  was  going  to 
eat  the  big  dog,  body  and  bones,  but  his  courage 
oozed  as  the  distance  diminished,  until,  when  it 
came  to  actual  contact,  he  was  the  meekest  and 
most  conciliatory  of  dogs.  R 'ng  came  to  his 
death  in  a  horrible  manner.  One  day  while  hunt 
ing  rabbits  with  a  mixed  pack  of  curs,  bull  dogs 
and  bull  terriers,  we  "treed"  a  'coon  in  a  brush 
pile.  Ring's  education  went  no  farther  than  rab 
bits,  but  he  was  a  meddlesome  and  inquisitive  ani 
mal,  and  worked  himself  into  the  heap  until  he 
came  upon  the  'coon  in  front,  and  quietly  began  to 
smell  it.  Cooney  fastened  on  his  nose  with  a 
death  grip,  and  Ring  set  up  a  dreadful  "yowl." 

At  this  critical  moment  a  white  bull  terrier,  noted 
for  his  prowess  in  fights,  and  for  the  smooth  dex 
terity  with  which  he  could  bite  off  a  pig's  tail  close 


172         DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 

to  the  root,  worked  his  way  through  the  heap  on 
the  opposite  side,  and  seized  the  coon  in  the  rear. 
"  Bob  "  held  to  the  coon,  and  the  coon  held  to 
Ring,  so  that  both  were  dragged  through  the  heap 
and  out  in  the  open  air.  By  one  of  those  awkward 
mistakes  which  will  happen  with  the  best  regulated 
dogs,  in  the  hurry  of  business,  the  other  dogs  fas 
tened  on  poor  Ring  instead  of  the  coon,  and  he 
was  literally  torn  to  pieces,  while  the  coon  escaped. 
They  felt  badly  about  it,  after  it  was  all  over,  but 
as  Ring  looked  as  much  like  a  coon  as  a  dog,  the 
mistake  was  quite  natural. 

"Music"  was  another  remarkable  dog  with 
which  I  enjoyed  an  intimate  acquaintance.  He 
was  a  hound,  coal  black  and  tan,  with  long,  pend 
ant  ears,  and  the  most  magnificent  voice  I  ever 
heard.  He  could  fill  the  entire  woods  with  it.  It 
was  deep,  sonorous,  capable  of  extraordinary  mod 
ulation,  and  full  of  melody.  I  do  not  remember 
anything  finer  than  the  cry  of  this  dog,  reverber 
ating  through  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  it  was  one 
of  his  characteristics  to  give  tongue  as  readily 
in  pursuit  of  a  weasel  as  he  would  have  done  in  a 
bear  chase.  Music  was  designed  for  foxes,  but  never 
having  had  any  education  in  that  line,  his  genius 
was  expended  on  rabbits,  squirrels,  coons,  and 
other  small  game.  He  belonged  to  a  relation  in 
the  country  whom  I  used  to  visit,  and  was  passion 
ately  fond  of  the  chase.  He  would  go  out  by  him 
self,  strike  a  coon  trail,  follow  it  to  the  coon's 
harbor,  in  some  hollow  tree,  and  then  take  the 
"  back  track."  Thus  he  would  go  back  and  forth 


DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN.         173 

for  hours,  making  the  forest  resound  with  his  me 
lodious  yells.  Music  was  not  devoid  of  personal 
courage.  Indeed,  when  pressed  to  the  wall,  he 
would  fight  savagely,  and  always  to  win.  But  in 
his  intercourse  with  man  or  boy  he  was  the  most 
abject  coward  I  ever  sawr.  Make  a  motion  to  strike 
him,  and  he  would  whop  over  on  his  back,  and  lie 
there  shivering  in  pitiful  terror,  emitting  a  fresh 
howl  with  every  motion  of  the  threatening  arm. 
With  true  boyish  malignity  I  used  to  terrify  poor 
Music  in  this  manner,  until  one  day  an  occurrence, 
as  horrible  as  it  was  ridiculous,  and  altogether  too 
painful  to  relate,  put  an  end  to  this  persecution  on 
my  part.  Music  finally  got  into  bad  odor  with  the 
neighbors,  on  account  of  certain  transactions  in 
mutton,  and  was  given  away  to  a  mover.  The  last 
I  ever  saw  of  him  he  was  tied  to  the  rear  axle  of 
the  wagon,  where  they  hang  the  tar  bucket,  and 
was  mournfully  trotting  westward  ho  ! 

A  Newfoundland,  with  which  I  was  on  excellent 
terms,  once  conducted  himself  in  a  manner  excess 
ively  human.  Some  spoiled  hams  had  been  thrown 
out,  and  Major  took  one  of  them  and  buried  it  be 
hind  the  Methodist  church.  Just  as  he  was  shov 
eling  the  dirt  over  his  commissary  stores,  his  master 
came  out,  and  started  up  town.  Major  left  the  job 
unfinished,  and  followed  his  master.  A  little,  half- 
starved  mongrel,  who  had  been  watching  the  pro 
ceedings,  \vent  to  the  hole  as  soon  as  Major  was 
out  of  sight,  and  began  to  unearth  the  treasure. 
It  happened  that  Major's  master  did  not  stay  long 
up  town,  and  in  passing  the  church  on  the  return  trip 


174         DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 

the  dog  remembered  the  ham,  and  thought  he  might 
as  well  finish  the  job.  He  came  upon  the  scene  of  ac 
tion  just  as  the  little  thief  was  tugging  at  the  shank, 
in  the  effort  to  drag  the  ham  away.  Maje  came 
down  on  him  like  an  avalanche,  with  an  explosion 
of  fierce  barks,  an  angry  mouthing,  and  an  ener 
getic  "  wooling,'1  which  augured  speedy  death  to 
the  little  culprit,  who  was  howling  dismally  in  hope 
less  terror.  It  was  soon  evident,  however,  that 
Maje  scorned  to  hurt  so  small  a  dog,  and  that  he 
was  only  teaching  him  a  lesson  through  the  medium 
of  salutary  fright.  After  shaking  and  wallow 
ing  him  in  the  dirt,  he  stood  astride  of  him,  and, 
looking  down  upon  the  little  wretch,  who  was  lying- 
still  as  death,  growled  fiercely.  After  standing- 
over  him  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  Maje  slowly  with 
drew,  looking  backward  as  he  went.  At  the 
slightest  movement  of  the  little  dog  towards  getting 
up,  Maje  would  return  and  give  him  another  shak 
ing.  Finally,  after  getting  away  a  dozen  yards, 
and  finding  the  little  rascal  made  no  attempt  to  get 
up,  Maje  gave  him  a  parting  growl,  and  trotted  oft', 
leaving  both  ham  and  dog.  As  soon  as  the  little 
dog  found  his  oppressor  had  really  gone,  he  got  up 
with  alacrity,  and  made  remarkable  time  in  getting 
away,  without  even  taking  a  farewell  smell  of  the 
ham  which  had  seduced  him  from  the  path  of  rec 
titude. 

I  once  knew  a  dog — a  low  breed,  "  yaller,"  long- 
bodied  fiste,  with  short  and  very  crooked  legs — 
that  would  go  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  tree  and 
shake  a  bush,  to  frighten  the  squirrel  around  so  that 


DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN.         175 

you  could  get  a  shot  at  it.  I  don't  ask  anybody  to 
believe  this  story.  I  shouldn't  believe  it  myself,  if 
I  had  not  seen  it,  time  and  again. 

In  the  town  of  C n,   Illinois,  is,  or  was,  a 

dog  whose  facial  expression  inevitably  reminded 
you  of  a  merchant  in  the  same  town.  The  like 
ness  was  startling,  and  attracted  the  attention  of 
even  strangers.  This  dog  was  positively  the  ug 
liest  and  most  ill-favored  animal  I  ever  saw,  and 
yet  he  was  a  general  favorite  with  everybody.  A 
kindly,  genial  expression  shone  through  the  crust 
of  his  horrid  ugliness  of  countenance,  and  he  had 
a  deprecatory,  apologetic  air,  which  seemed  to 
say,  "Good  people,  I  know  it;  but  I  can't  help 
it — really  I  mean  no  harm  by  it."  So  striking 

was   the   likeness   between  the   dog   and  M , 

that  he  was  called  by  the  merchant's  name.  The 
latter  was  annoyed  to  the  verge  of  distraction  by 
it,  and  offered  a  fabulous  price  for  the  dog,  with  a 
view  to  expatriation  ;  but  the  owner,  who  disliked 
the  merchant,  refused  to  sell  at  any  price. 

A  peculiarity  about  dogs  in  general  is  the  man 
ner  in  which  they  reflect  the  characteristics  of 
their  masters.  I  can  tell  any  lady's  peculiarities 
of  temper  much  more  satisfactorily  by  cultivating 
and  studying  her  lap-dog  than  any  phrenologist 
can  by  feeling  her  head.  The  dog  naturally  ac 
quires  much  of  the  disposition  of  his  master. 

I  could  fill  columns  with  anecdotes  of  dogs  that 
I  have  known,  but  with  one  more  example  I  will 
leave  the  subject.  I  once  had  a  dog — a  large, 
lumbering,  corn-colored  whelp — whose  antipathy 


176         DOGS  THAT  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 

was  cats.  Pomp  was  an  inveterate  cat  hunter. 
He  hunted  them  in  the  gray  light  of  the  early 
morning,  at  noon,  by  moonlight — at  all  times  :  and 
would  snake  a  cat  out  of  a  door-step  or  window, 
and  slay  it  with  admirable  dexterity.  Our  own 
cat  he  would  not  exactly  kill,  but  he  would  take 
her  out  and  bury  her  in  the  snow,  and  worry  her 
until  she  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  ghost. 
Pomp  was  a  quarrelsome  dog,  and  constantly  en 
gaged  in  fights  with  his  neighbors.  He  had  a 
curious  system  of  defense  which  was  entirely 
original  with  him.  He  would  deliver  his  attack, 
and  when  his  antagonist  turned  upon  him,  instead 
of  presenting  his  front,  like  other  dogs,  he  would 
present  his  rear.  Other  dogs  could  never  fathom 
the  depth  of  this  strategy,  and  Pomp  generally 
came  off  victor.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this 
system  of  defense  originated  in  Pomp's  personal 
vanity.  He  thought  too  much  of  the  beauty  of  his 
face  to  imperil  it  by  meeting  an  attack  in  the  usual 
way.  When  it  rained,  Pomp  became  a  different 
dog.  He  would  lie  for  a  week  at  a  time  growling 
at  everybody  and  everything,  but  never  moving 
unless  punched  up  with  a  pole.  He  finally  fell  a 
victim  to  hydrophobia. 


DUCK  SHOOTING  IN  LOUISIANA. 


In  the  fall  and  winter  of  1862,  the  writer  played 
for  a  short  time  an  unimportant  engagement  as 
prisoner  of  war.  Unlike  thousands  who  dragged 
out  a  miserable  existence  for  one  or  two  years  in 
the  crowded  prison  pens  of  Georgia  or  North  Car 
olina,  his  lot  was  cast  in  a  section  of  country  which 
had,  as  yet,  but  few  prisoners,  and  where  the  few 
they  did  have  were  generally  well  treated,  and  fur 
nished  with  abundance  of  food,  not  such  as  an  epi 
cure  would  select  from  an  ample  bill  of  fare,  but 
wholesome  in  quality.  The  period  of  my  confine 
ment  was  most  refreshingly  brief,  being  only  two 
months,  inclusive  of  fourteen  days  at  the  Washing 
ton  Hotel  in  Vicksburg.  In  company  with  a  small 
number  of  Western  men,  the  writer  was  sent  down 
with  a  detachment  of  the  8th  Vermont,  which  had 
been  gobbled  at  Bayou  des  Allemands,  under  cir 
cumstances  not  particularly  creditable  to  the  offi 
cers  in  command,  having  surrendered  a  partially 
fortified  position,  defended  by  cannon,  without  fir 
ing  a  shot.  To  signify  his  disapprobation  of  the 
surrender,  Old  Strabismus  ordered  the  whole  de- 
12 


178  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

tachment  to  Ship  Island,  to  await  exchange.  Now? 
the  writer  knew  something  of  Ship  Island — a  bleak, 
desolate  patch  of  barrenness,  with  its  infernal 
winds,  and  drifting  sands,  and  its  scarcity  of  edi 
bles — and  whatever  views  Gen.  Butler  might  en 
tertain  of  its  salubrity,  he  determined  he  would  not 
go  there,  at  least  not  without  a  struggle.  Court- 
martial  lost  its  terrors  when  the  recollection  of  Ship 
Island  returned  in  all  its  horrid  freshness.  So  the 
writer  bolted — ran  away — not  to  put  too  fine  a  point 
on  it,  deserted.  And  that  is  how  he  came  to  know 
so  much  about  duck  shooting  in  Louisiana. 

My  regiment  was  lying  mostly  at  Brashear  City, 
some  companies  detailed  for  naval  service  on  the 
gunboats,  and  the  balance  sloshing  round  miscel 
laneously.  Our  sutler,  John  McMillan,  was  mak 
ing  up  a  sugar  crop  on  Osgood's  plantation,  about 
fifteen  miles  above  the  city  of  New  Orleans — Mr. 
Osgood's  negroes  having  run  away  and  left  the  old 
gentleman  in  the  lurch  with  a  fine  crop  of  cane, 
and  no  means  of  converting  it  into  sugar.  Ed. 
Parsley  and  John  Bodfish  were  trying  their  hands 
at  "  overseeing,"  and,  being  a  particular  friend  of 
Ed.'s,  the  Osgood  plantation  offered  extraordinary 
inducements  to  a  prisoner  on  parole;  with  the  de 
lights  Ship  Island  held  in  terror  em  over  his  head. 
Plantation  life  in  the  sugar  season  is  exhilarating 
and  interesting.  The  busy  hands  hauling  and 
stripping  cane,  and  clearing  away  "  bagasse  " — the 
immense  steaming  kettles,  with  their  queer  names— 
the  excitement  of  making  "a  strike,"  and  the 
wild  barbaric  chant  of  the  dusky,  perspiring  sugar 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA.  179 

boilers — are  all  interesting  to  the  stranger.  The 
sugar  boilers  are  improvisator  es  on  a  grand  scale, 
and  will  continue  for  hours,  weaving  the  most  com 
monplace  incidents  as  well  a*s  the  wildest  fancies  of 
Obeah  and  Voudoo  superstition  into  their  chants, 
and  the  effect  sometimes  is  wierd,  and  unearthly  to 
an  almost  painful  degree.  At  these  times  the  sav 
age  element  in  the  African  seems  to  reassert  itself, 
and  the  civilization  he  has  absorbed  is,  for  the 
nonce,  overshadowed  by  his  barbaric  nature.  I 
had  taken  notes  of  some  of  these  wild  improvisa 
tions,  but  regret  to  say  they  have  been  lost,  and 
treacherous  memory  fails  to  recall  their  burden. 
The  favorite,  however,  was  the-chorus  of— 

"  Old  Stormy,  storm,  storm  along," 

roared  out  in  a  grand  combination  of  powerful 
voices,  with  a  running  commentary  of  such  inci 
dents  and  fancies  as  occurred  to  the  leader  and 
composer,  who  was  known  to  the  white  folks  only 
as  "Old  Stormy." 

Getting  a  little  tired  of  plantation  life,  I  cast  about 
me  for  something  more  exciting  than  grinding 
cane  and  studying  African  character.  Borrowing 
a  gun,  I  began  a  series  of  explorations  on  the  verge 
of  the  swamp  back  of  the  plantation,  occasionally 
bagging  a  few  snipe,  a  rail,  heron  or  a  brace  of 
black,  worthless  ducks,  and  making  havoc  among 
the  great  flocks  of  crows  which  infested  the  planta 
tion.  In  one  of  these  excursions  I  wandered  down 
to  the  neighboring  plantation  below,  belonging  to 
a  fat  and  jolly  Creole  Frenchman  named  Cavalier. 


l8o  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

A  couple  of  green-winged  teal,  passing  by,  fell  to 
a  double  shot,  which  I  flattered  myself  was  rather 
neat,  and  while  examining  the  beautiful  birds  and 
congratulating  myself  that  my  right  arm  had  not 
forgotten  its  cunning,  old  Cavalier,  mounted  on  a 
trifle  of  a  mule,  wearing  a  broad-brimmed,  ginger- 
colored  felt  chapeau,  which  he  had  converted  into 
an  impromptu  cocked  hat,  giving  him  something 
of  the  appearance  of  the  Third  Reader  pictures  of 
the  great  Napoleon,  rode  up  and  congratulated  me 
on  the  shot.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  old  man  was 
something  of  a  sportsman,  and  his  eyes  glistened 
as  he  told  me  in  his  broken  English  about  the  good 
shooting  down  the  bayou  and  out  at  the  lake.  He 
volunteered  to  lend  me  a  pirogue  and  a  negro 
to  paddle  it,  so  that  I  might  enjoy  a  good  day's 
duck  shooting.  I  was  not  slow  to  avail  myself  of 
his  kind  offer,  and  accompanying  him  to  the  house, 
he  called  "Justin" — a  bright-looking  young  fel 
low,  black  as  Erebus  and  dressed  in  clean  cordu 
roy  coat  and  breeches,  white  shirt  and  big  leather 
boots,  the  tops  of  which  came  above  his  knees. 
Justin  emerged  from  a  squad  of  shady  laborers, 
who  were  engaged  in  winnowing  rice,  and  grinning 
good  humoredly,  politely  asked  what  was  wanted. 
I  was  not  very  well  up  in  French,  but  knowing  be 
forehand  the  purport  of  the  conversation,  I  readily 
followed  the  Jolly  Cavalier  and  the  dusky  Justin  in 
their  rapid  talk,  consisting  of  three  parts  of  nasal 
pronunciation  and  one  of  shoulder  shrugging.  One 
thing,  however,  puzzled  me.  The  old  man  wras 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA.  l8l 

particular  to  know  if  Justin  could  swim.  I  didn't 
understand  his  anxiety  at  the  time. 

I  saw  the  point  a  few  days  after,  when  I  learned 
that  the  art  of  swimming  had  saved  old  Cavalier  a 
negro. 

Justin  took  me  to  the  boat-house,  where  he  se 
lected  one  of  the  largest  of  the  pirogues  and 
launched  it  in  the  little  canal.  A  pirogue,  simple 
reader,  is  an  invention  of  the  evil  one.  It  is  a 
light,  shallow  canoe,  hollowed  out  of  the  trunk  of 
the  cottonwood,  sycamore,  or  sweet  gum,  and  ca 
pable  of  bearing  one  or  two  persons,  according  to 
its  size — always  provided  that  discretion  is  exer 
cised.  The  seats  are  close  to  the  bottom.  You  can 
no  more  stand  up  in,  or  sit  on  the  gunwales  of  a 
pirogue  without  capsizing,  than  you  can  climb  the 
steepest  curve  of  a  greased  rainbow.  The  pirogue 
won't  stand  any  nonsense,  and  is  a  perfect  trap  for 
lubbers.  You  see  a  pirogue  lying  at  the  bank,  and 
think  you  will  step  in  and  take  a  ride.  You  do 
step  in,  and  the  treacherous  thing  shoots  from 
under  you  quicker  than  lightning,  and  the  first 
thing  you  know  you  are  turning  a  back  summer 
sault  into  the  water,  while  the  little  thing  is  riding 
a  half-dozen  rods  out  in  the  stream.  Properly 
managed  however,  a  pirogue  is  graceful  as  a  fawn 
and  tractable  as  the  woman  who  loves  you. 

We  boarded  the  pirogue,  and  Justin  shot  it  swiftly 
down  the  little  canal  and  into  the  bayou,  a  deep, 
sluggish  stream,  varying  from  fifty  to  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  in  width,  the  water  of  a  dark,  inky 
hue,  and  full  of  garr  fish,  with  hundreds  of  loath- 


1 82  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

some  alligators  sunning  themselves  on  its  banks. 
Along  this  little  stream  flocks  of  a  bird  which  the 
Creoles  call  -poulet  cTeau,  or  water  hen,  but  which 
I  believe  to  be  the  coot,  were  constantly  flying, 
passing  recklessly  to  and  fro  within  easy  shot  of 
the  pirogue.  The  poulet  d'eau  is  dark  blue  in 
color,  with  a  pink  beak.  They  rise  with  difficulty 
from  the  water,  their  legs  and  web  feet,  which  are 
set  farther  back  than  those  of  a  duck,  paddling  the 
wate'r  like  the  buckets  of  a  stern-wheel  steamer, 
for  several  rods  before  they  get  clearly  afloat  in  the 
air.  The  flesh  of  the  -poulet  d1  eau  is  very  dark,  but 
sweet  and  juicy,  with  a  strong  gamy  flavor  like  that 
•of  the  snipe,  but  less  delicate.  They  are  little  es 
teemed  among  the  Creoles,  probably  on  account  of 
their  great  abundance  and  the  ease  with  which  they 
are  bagged,  but  I  preferred  them  for  the  table  to 
anything  except  the  green- winged  teal.  Along 
with  the  multitudes  of  these  silly  creatures  were 
occasional  flocks  of  teal,  mallards,  grey  ducks, 
spoon  bills,  and  a  duck  the  exact  counterpart  of 
the  famous  canvas-back,  but  lacking  the  exquisite 
flavor  that  bird  derives  from  the  wild  celery  on 
which  it  feeds.  On  either  side  was  a  region  of  in 
terminable  swamp,  overgrown  with  heavy  weeds, 
or  tall,  coarse  grass,  and  infested  with  the  filthy 
moccasin  snake  and  other  poisonous  reptiles.  It 
also  abounded  in  varieties  of  the  rail,  some  of 
which  were  brilliant  in  plumage. 

Down  this  bayou  Justin  swiftly  paddled  our 
pirogue.  He  was  an  adept  in  the  sport.  Stealing 
swiftly  and  noiselessly  around  some  point  in  the 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA."  183 

bayou,  and  shooting  from  behind  the  inevitable 
clump  of  willows,  he  would  bring  me  right  into 
the  midst  of  a  party  of  mallards,  quacking  and 
grubbing  in  the  floating  moss,  or  foraging  among 
the  reeds  along  the  bank.  It  was  late  in  the  day 
when  we  entered  the  bayou,  but  by  sun-down  I 
had  bagged  a  dozen  or  more  fat,  juicy  quacks. 

On  several  occasions  we  repeated  our  visits  to 
the  bayou.  Justin  was  always  eager  to  go,  and  in 
payment  for  his  services  received  ammunition, 
preferring  it  to  money.  Once  he  obtained  a  fur 
lough  for  the  entire  day,  and  proposed  we  should 
have  a  grand  hunt,  agreeing  to  take  me  into  the 
lake  and  around  to  another  bayou  less  frequented, 
where  game  was  even  more  abundant.  We  got 
an  early  start.  The  air  was  crisp,  with  a  thick 
fog  hanging  over  the  bayou.  During  some  six 
winters'  residence  in  Louisiana  I  had  never  known 
one  so  fine  as  this.  The  roses  and  other  sweet 
scented  flowers  bloomed  uninterruptedly.  But  to 
resume. 

We  pushed  along  the  bayou  in  the  fog,  unable 
to  distinguish  anything  two  rods  in  tront  of  us.  We 
would  constantly  hear  the  ducks  rising  ahead  of 
us,  and  by  watching  until  they  rose  above  the  belt 
of  fog,  could  get  good  shots.  Justin  had  brought 
his  gun  along,  and  joined  in  the  sport.  He  was 
positively  the  most  entertaining  negro  I  ever  met, 
and  was  a  lusus  naturae  in  one  particular.  He 
would  not  touch  liquor  of  any  kind,  alleging  that 
it  made  him  sick.  He  was  not  troubled  with 
scruples,  for  he  would  sometimes  beg  my  flask  for 


184  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

some  of  his  friends  whom  we  occasionally  met  on 
the  water.  He  spoke  English  fluently,  with  a 
French  accent,  and  had  the  drollest  way  of  biting 
off  English  words  in  the  middle. 

V  We  paddled  along  the  bayou,  at  first  shooting 
everything  that  came  within  shot,  but  finally  be 
coming  more  fastidious,  and  only  accepting  choice 
ducks.  The  sun  had  dispelled  the  fog,  and  we 
came  out  into  the  lake,  a  broad  sheet  of  blue  water, 
covered  for  half  a  mile  out  with  myriads  of  -poulet 
d'eatix  and  ducks  of  every  variety,  while  stinking 
cormorants  and  lazy  herons  flew  hither  and  yon. 
Here  Justin  showed  me  one  of  his  tricks  to  "fool 
'em."  Cutting  oft' two  or  three  reeds  close  to  the 
water,  he  selected  some  fine  ducks  from  those  we 
had  killed,  and  fastened  their  bills  to  the  cut  reeds- 
so  that  they  would  sit  easily  and  naturally  in  the 
water.  Then  running  the  pirogue  into  the  reeds  he 
masked  it  effectually,  and  began  an  imitation  of 
duck-talk  so  natural  as  to  deceive  the  wariest  old 
mallard  that  ever  lived.  Troops  of  mallards  began 
circling  around,  craning  their  long  necks  about  in 
all  directions,  looking  sharply  out  for  traps,  while 
flocks  of  the  foolish  poulet  cTcaux  swam  lazily  to 
ward  the  decoys.  Finally  a  flock  of  twelve  or  fif 
teen  swooped  down  and  alighted  on  the  water 
within  a  dozen  rods  of  our  "  Forneys."  Others  fol 
lowed,  and  soon  at  least  thirty  fine  ducks,  closely 
massed,  were  swimming  toward  us.  They  were 
already  within  easy  shot,  but  anxious  to  study  their 
habits  I  motioned  the  impatient  Justin  to  hold  his 
fire.  Unsuspiciously  they  approached  until  the  de- 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA.  185 

coys  were  surrounded  with  ducks  and  coots.  Fi 
nally  an  old,  weather-beaten  mallard,  who  seemed 
to  be  the  leader,  swam  up  to  the  decoys  and  po 
litely  made  his  morning  salutation.  Just  about  that 
time  old  green  crest  made  a  discovery.  Rapidly 
backing  off,  he  took  a  frightened  look,  and  with  a 
startled  "  qu-a-a-a-a-ck  ,  quack,'  quack  !  "  express 
ive  of  the  most  abject  terror,  he  rose  from  the  water. 
There  was  a  splashing  and  spluttering,  and  the 
whole  flock  of  birds  were  in  the  air.  Bang,  bang, 
went  all  of  our  barrels  in  quick  succession,  and 
there  was  a  rapid  decline  in  feathers.  We  picked 
up  seventeen  ducks  and  coots,  and  Justin  was 
highly  delighted  with  the  success  of  his  attempt  at 
fooling  them. 

We  paddled  around  to  the  other  bayou,  where 
we  found  game  abundant."  Large  flocks  of  teal 
would  rise  out  of  the  reeds  immediately  in  front  of 
us,  or  fly  right  into  our  faces.  We  killed  until  we 
were  satiated  with  slaughter,  and  then  started  to  re 
turn.  Paddling  lazily  along,  I  heard  a  flapping  in 
the  reeds.  Something  red  gleamed  among  the  fad 
ing  green  of  the  cane  leaves,  and  a  large  scarlet  fla 
mingo  rose  lazily  above  their  tops  and  was  making 
off.  If  it  had  been  an  elephant,  or  flying  dragon, 
I  could  not  have  Ipeen  more  unsettled.  I  fired 
nervously  and  quickly  with  my  right,  and,  of 
course,  missed.  Taking  deliberate  aim  with  the 
left,  resolved  this  time  to  make  a  sure  thing  of  it,  I 
pulled  trigger,  and  for  the  first  time  the  gun  failed. 
I  could  have  plunged  into  the  oozy  bed  of  the  bayou 
and  drowned  myself  with  sheer  vexation,  when 


1 86  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

the  cheerful  crack  of  Justin's  gun  sounded  in  my 
ear,  and  the  flamingo  tied  himself  into  a  knot  and 
tumbled  headlong  among  the  reeds.  Justin  waded 
in  and  brought  the  beautiful  bird  to  the  pirogue. 
He  was  as  fine  a  specimen  as  I  ever  saw,  nearly 
as  large  as  a  sand-hill  crane,  and  with  every 
feather  as  clean  and  bright  as  it  was  possible  to 
be.  I  took  him  home,  got  some  arsenic  and  at 
tempted  to  make  a  specimen  of  my  prize.  I  failed, 
however,  through  want  of  skill,  and  the  noble 
bird  spoiled  on  my  hands. 

Returning  up  the  first  bayou,  I  learned  the  se 
cret  of  old  Cavalier's  anxiety  to  know  whether 
Justin  could  swim  or  not.  The  appetite  for  slaugh 
ter  came  back  as  we  left  the  game  region,  and  we 
began  popping  over  ducks  and  -poulct  cT  eaux  indis 
criminately.  As  I  before  remarked,  a  pirogue  isn't 
a  good  thing  to  stand  up  in,  but  loading  the  gun 
while  sitting  was  very  awkward  business.  In 
many  places  the  bayou  was  covered  with  a  carpet 
of  thick,  rope-like  moss,  forming  in  some  places  a 
perfect  matting,  through  which  it  was  almost  im 
possible  to  force  the  pirogue.  By  running  the 
prow  on  to  one  of  these  moss  banks,  it  was  possible 
to  stand  up  and  load.  Justin  had  often  cautioned 
me  against  this,  but  I  thought  I  was  something  of 
an  expert  in  pirogue  tactics,  and  scorned  his  timid 
fears.  I  had  just  shot  a  large  gray  duck,  and  was 
loading  on  one  of  these  moss  banks.  A  negro  in 
a  pirogue  further  down  the  bayou  attracted  my  at 
tention,  and  while  intently  watching  him,  I  felt 
our  vessel  careening  over.  Justin  gave  a  warning 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA.  187 

shout,  and  threw  his  weight  on  the  other  side.  It 
was  too  late,  however,  and  feeling  that  a  catastrophe 
was  inevitable,  and  preferring  to  enter  the  water 
feet  foremost,  I  jumped  out,  gun  in  hand.  Re 
lieved  of  my  superior  weight,  the  treacherous  little 
.shell  whopped  over  on  the  other  side,  and  turned 
bottom  upward,  spilling  Justin,  our  load  of  game, 
lunch-basket,  and  such  clothing  as  we  had  laid 
aside  on  account  of  the  heat,  into  the  water.  Still 
holding  to  my  gun,  I  sank  through  the  bed  of 
moss  and  plumbed  the  bottom,  about  eight  feet.  I 
shot  upward  again,  still  holding  the  gun,  and 
spouted  a  column  of  dirty  water,  like  a  \vhale.  I 
had  no  fear  of  drowning,  being  a  good  swimmer, 
and  bearing  in  mind  a  proverb  about  certain  per 
sons  destined  to  a  dryer  death,  but  soon  found  I 
had  not  fully  comprehended  the  situation.  In 
struggling  to  keep  my  head  above  wrater,  the  in 
fernal  moss  wound  around  my  legs,  arms  and 
neck,  until  I  was  as  helpless  as  a  swathed  mummy, 
while  every  kick  or  stroke  of  the  arm  only  fixed 
me  more  firmly  in  the  devilish  toils. 

I  began  to  be  alarmed,  and  felt  myself  turning 
pale.  At  such  times  men  think  rapidly,  and  in 
less  than  ten  seconds  I  had  retrospected  my  entire 
life — the  mean  things  of  which  I  had  been  guilty 
being  especially  prominent  in  the  picture.  I 
thought  it  was  rather  rough  that  I  should  have 
escaped  the  vicissitudes  of  a  soldier's  life,  to  be 
finally  drowned  in  a  stinking  bayou,  like  a  blind 
puppy  or  superfluous  kitten,  and  I  remember  that 
the  *  absurd  story  of  the  French  soldier  who  had 


1 88  DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA. 

followed  Napoleon  through  a  hundred  battles- 
without  a  scratch,  and  was  finally  kicked  to  death 
by  a  camp  mule,  presented  itself  with  ludicrous 
force.  I  saw  the  ravenous  garr  and  slimy  cat-fish 
fighting  over  my  bones,  and  above  all  I  wished  I 
was  well  out  of  it.  Then  I  heard  Justin's  voice, 
shouting  to  me  to  let  go  the  gun  and  hold  on  ta 
the  moss.  I  did  so,  and  soon  found  that  a  w^atery 
grave  was  not  near  so  imminent  as  I  had  feared. 
By  simply  keeping  still,  a  very  slight  motion  was 
sufficient  to  stay  my  head  above  water,  and  so 
I  remained  until  the  faithful  African  took  the 
pirogue  ashore,  righted  it,  and  came  to  the  rescue. 
Tearing  the  moss  from  my  neck  and  arms,  he  soon 
extricated  me.  I  felt  disposed  to  make  for  the 
shore,  as  it  was  impossible  to  get  into  the  shell 
while  it  was  in  the  water.  But  both  guns  were 
overboard,  and  Justin  wanted  to  recover  them. 
He  proposed  to  dive  for  them,  but  remembering 
that  the  water  was  not  deep,  and  reflecting  that 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  was  heaviest,  it  occurred  to 
me  that  they  might  be  found  standing  perpendicu 
larly  with  the  wooden  breech  uppermost.  Hold 
ing  to  the  side  of  the  pirogue,  I  began  exploring 
with  my  feet,  and  soon  had  the  inexpressible  satis 
faction  of  feeling  what  I  was  looking  for.  Grasp 
ing  the  breech  with  my  feet,  I  raised  it  until  I 
could  reach  it  with  my  hands.  The  other  gun  I 
recovered  in  the  same  manner.  Then,  gathering 
up  our  game,  which  amounted  to  a  boat-load,  we 
went  ashore,  where  I  drained  the  water  out  of  my 
boots,  and  the  whisky  out  of  the  flask.  The*  air 


DUCK    SHOOTING    IN    LOUISIANA.  1 89 

was  balmy  enough,  but  it  was  January,  neverthe 
less,  and  the  water  chilly.  I  was  soon  shivering 
and  chattering  like  a  monkey,  despite  the  heavy 
draft  of  "commissary."  I  got  into  the  pirogue, 
and  taking  the  extra  paddle,  we  made  the  little 
shell  fairly  dance  through  the  water.  Arrived  at 
the  boat  house,  I  gave  Justin  as  much  of  the  game 
as  he  could  carry,  and  walked  briskly  to  the  plant 
ation,  where  Ed.  furnished  me  with  dry  clothing, 
and  sent  down  a  cart  for  the  game.  I  never  took 
the  trouble  to  count  it,  but  there  was  enough  for 
the  whole  plantation. 

This  was  my  last  day's  duck-shooting  in  Louis 
iana.  A  few  day's  later  I  received  the  joyful  ( ?) 
intelligence  that  I  was  exchanged,  with  an  intima 
tion  from  the  colonel  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
see  me  at  headquarters. 


SHIFTING  SCENES 


FROM  THE 


DRAMA  OF  THE  LATE  WAR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  Twenty-first  Regiment  Indiana  Volunteers, 
Col.  J.  W.  McMillan,  having  completed  its  organ 
ization  and  equipment,  left  Camp  Vajen,  Indiana 
polis,  in  the  latter  part  of  July,  1861,  via  Dayton, 
for  the  East.  This  regiment  was  generally  con 
ceded  to  be  among  the  finest,  if  not  the  finest,  that 
had  left  that  State.  Col.  McMillan,  by  his  untir 
ing  energy  and  assiduous  attention  to  business  in 
organizing  it,  won  golden  opinions  from  all.  Start 
ing  several  weeks  behind  the  others,  he  had  the 
proud  satisfaction  of  being  the  first  of  the  new  reg 
iments  in  the  field.  The  regiment  was  entirely 
full — 101  in  each  company,  with  an  excellent  band 
— 1,050  in  all. 

At  Dayton,  at  which  place  we  arrived  about 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  the  citizens  had  prepared 
a  collation  tor  the  troops,  which  was  very  good  in 


THE    LATE    WAR.  19! 

its  way,  only  there  was  not  enough  of  it.  The 
first  division  fared  well,  but  the  second  made  a 
very  light  repast. 

All  the  way  from  Columbus,  via  Steubenville, 
our  journey  was  a  continuous  ovation.  Throngs  of 
people  lined  the  way  at  each  stopping  place,  cheer 
ing  and  waving  handkerchiefs,  while  fair  ladies 
passed  up  and  down  the  long  trains,  distributing 
refreshments  to  the  grateful  troops.  Quartermas 
ter  Hinkley,  Adjutant  Latham,  and  Captain  Roy, 
were  particularly  susceptible  to  the  attraction  of 
the  bright  eyes  that  flashed  glances  of  welcome 
and  encouragement  from  the  roadside.  Capt. 
Hinkley,  who  was  a  handsome  man,  and  rather 
impressible,  was  a  source  of  unceasing  trouble  to 
the  regiment.  At  every  station  he  was  held  until 
the  train  was  in  motion,  by  the  attractions  of  a  con 
versation  with  some  little  witch  in  crinoline  and 
curls,  and  would  have  to  make  a  flying  leap  to  the 
platform.  By  the  time  we  reached  Frazerville, 
our  quartermaster  became  entirely  unmanageable. 
At  Coshocton  it  was  found  necessary  to  chain  him. 

While  all  along  the  route  through  Ohio,  the  citi 
zens  manifested  the  utmost  good  feeling,  the 
kind  people  of  Coshocton  and  Steubenville  were 
worthy  of  especial  mention.  At  the  former  place, 
in  addition  to  the  usual  refreshments,  citizens  passed 
along  the  line  distributing  quarters  and  half  dollars 
to  the  men. 

When  we  left  Indianapolis,  it  was  the  understand 
ing  that  our  destination  was  Washington,  but  on 
arriving  at  Baltimore  we  were  ordered  into  camp 


192  THE    LATE    WAR. 

at  Locust  Point,  a  little  point  of  land,  nice,  clean 
and  grassy,  in  the  rear  of  Fort  McHenry,  with  the 
salt  water  on  either  side  of  us 

Our  reception  on  the  march  through  Baltimore 
was  "  a  little  mixed."  From  many  windows  small' 
editions  of  the  American  flag,  and  handkerchiefs, 
were  waved  ;  while  from  others,  and  from  the  door 
ways  of  doggeries,  the  scowling  faces  of  secession 
ists  shot  forth  black  looks  of  mingled  hate  and  fear. 

In  camp  the  heat  was  great,  but  we  had  a  glori 
ous  sea  breeze.  We  also  had  a  few  mosquitoes, 
but  they  were  beneath  contempt — no  more  to  be 
compared  to  the  fierce,  remorseless  insect  of  the 
South  and  West,  than  was  a  kitten  to  a  tiger,  or  a 
minnow  to  a  whale.  They  were  miserable,  feeble, 
attenuated  insects,  without  power  to  injure  or  exas 
perate,  and  our  boys  laughed  at  their  puerile  at 
tempts  to  draw  blood. 

Toward  the  middle  of  August  our  regiment  was 
considerably  thinned  out,  by  detaching  companies 
and  squads  for  various  duties.  The  companies  of 
Captains  Skelton  and  McLaflin  went  to  Fort  Mc 
Henry,  to  take  a  course  of  instruction  in  artillery 
practice,  from  Captain  Hazard.  Captain  Roy's 
company — the  "  crack  "  one  of  the  regiment,  by  the 
by — guarded  the  long  bridge  over  the  Patapsco, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  camp.  In  addition  to 
these,  details  of  seventy  men  were  sent  out  every 
day  or  two,  in  charge  of  steamboats  loaded  wdth 
stores.  The  boys  who  had  been  to  Washington 
.and  back,  had  wonderful  tales  to  tell  of  the  magni- 


^  THE    LATE    WAR.  193 

tude  of  the  preparations  there  for  the  next  forward 
movement. 

An  increased  activity  was  perceptible  in  the  work 
of  preparing  Fort  McHenry  for  reception  of  vis 
itors,  after  the  designs  of  the  rebels  with  regard  to 
an  invasion  of  Maryland  was  developed.  The  fort 
itself  was  an  open  one,  without  casemates,  but  was 
considered  impregnable,  so  far  as  storming  is  con 
cerned  ;  but  there  was  a  handsome  spot  of  ground 
just  over  the  water,  on  the  east  or  southeast,  from 
which  the  place  could  have  been  shelled  effectively  r 
provided  a  battery  could  have  been  established 
there,  which  was  hardly  probable,  unless  it  could 
have  been  done  between  dark  and  daylight.  The 
armament  of  the  fort  was  considered  heavy.  Tier 
upon  tier  of  large  guns  rose  above  each  other  on 
the  parapets — columbiads,  howitzers,  carronades, 
mortars,  etc.- — while  shot,  shell,  grape  and  canister 
lay  around  loose  in  convenient  piles.  There  were 
several  furnaces  for  heating  shot.  Three  of  those 
terrible  ten-inch  columbiads,  and  several  mortars 
commanded  the  city  of  Baltimore.  Fort  McHenry, 
when  the  war  commenced,  was  in  very  poor  con 
dition,  and  would  have  fallen  an  easy  prey  to  a 
vigorous  attack,  but  shortly  after  that  event  it  was 
swiftly  put  in  order  and  the  defenses  greatly 
strengthened.  But  two  companies  of  regulars 
were  quartered  there.  The  Third  New  York — a 
fine-looking,  well-drilled  regiment,  of  two  years' 
men — was  encamped  on  the  beach  within  the  outer 
wall,  and  south  of  the  fort. 

Squads  of  prisoners  were  brought  up  every  day  or 
13 


194  TIIE    LATE    WAR. 

two,  and  treated  to  an  indefinite  seclusion  within 
the  hospitable  walls  of  McHenry.  Thomas  and 
Alexander  were  sent  there,  two  heroes  of  the  St. 
Nicholas  steamer  affair — the  former  on  that  occasion 
having  personated,  with  great  success,  the  role  of 
the  "French  Lady." 

Thomas  was  a  small,  rather  slender  fellow,  with 
a  fresh,  light  complexion,  and  the  round  oval  face 
and  bullet  head,  which  seemed  to  be  the  prevailing 
type  among  native  Baltimoreans  of  the  beau 
monde.  He  and  his  pirate  comrade  were  dressed 
in  neat  and  jaunty  zouave  costume,  scrupulously 
clean,  and  spruce  almost  to  foppishness*  They  car 
ried  themselves  bravely,  without  swagger  or  bra 
vado,  and  conversed  freely  with  those  around  them. 

In  contrast  to  the  appearance  of  Thomas  and 
Alexander  was  that  of  Captain  Wellmore,  another 
noted  character  in  the  purlieus  of  Baltimore.  He 
was  arrested,  put  on  parole,  and  swaggered  about 
the  streets  in  rebel  uniform,  bloviating  to  such 
crowds  as  he  could  collect  in  grogshops.  His  hair 
was  red,  profusely  greased  or  soaped,  and  curled 
like  a  woman's.  His  general  appearance  was  that 
of  a  cross  between  a  spooney  and  a  petty  thief. 

The  view  down  the  bay  was  one  of  quiet  beauty. 
Some  six  or  seven  miles  off  were  seen  the  gray 
walls  of  Fort  Carroll — an  unfinished  work — rising 
out  of  the  water.  The  bay  was  white  with  the 
sails  of  ships  bound  out  and  in,  coasting  vessels 
and  "  pungey  "  boats  crept  lazily  along  under  the 
faintest  suspicion  of  a  breeze.  At  evening  the  band 
of  the  New  Yorkers  over  at  the  fort  played  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  195 

"  Star-Spangled  Banner"  in  fine  style.  It  was 
quite  a  treat  to  hear  the  glorious  old  air,  whose 
every  note  quickens  the  blood  and  awakens  respon 
sive  echoes  in  the  American  heart — played  by  a 
good  band,  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  spot 
on  which  it  was  composed.  The  ship  from  which 
Francis  Key,  himself  a  prisoner,  in  heart-sicken 
ing  suspense,  witnessed  the  bombardment  of  Fort 
McHenry,  and  amid  the  roar  of  bursting  shells, 
the  rocket's  red  glare,  and  the  screaming  shot, 
composed  the  "Star-Spangled  Banner,"  was  an 
chored  just  around  the  point,  about  a  mile  south 
east  of  the  fort.  What  a  whirling  phantasm  of 
changes  since  then,  but  the  old  flag  is  still  seen 
"by  the  dawn's  early  light,"  and  by  the  purple 
beams  of  the  setting  sun,  waving  proudly  over  the 
bristling  ramparts  of  McHenry.  So  may  it  ever 
wave. 

Not  the  least  part  of  the  philosophy  which  sus 
tains  the  soldier  in  privation  and  hardship  is  the 
ability  to  extract  material  for  a  laugh  out  of  the 
petty  miseries  and  annoyances  of  camp  life,  and 
make  the  most  out  of  such  ludicrous  scenes  as  oc 
casionally  transpire.  If  there  is  any  thing  in  the 
adage  "laugh  and  grow  fat,"  the  regiment  was 
indebted  to  a  negro  dress  parade  for  many  a  layer 
of  adipose  matter  over  its  weather-beaten  ribs. 
Among  the  herd  of  followers  and  hangers-on  about 
the  camp,  we  had  an  unnumbered  squad  of  colored 
gentry,  the  most  of  them  identified  with  the  culin 
ary  department,  with  a  number  whose  position 
was  not  very  well  defined.  These  contrabands 


196  THE    LATE    WAR. 

had  become  enthused  with  military  ardor,  and 
their  dress  parade,  which  usually  came  off  between 
twilight  and  dark  in  the  rear  of  the  sutler's  shanty, 
was  a  "big  thing"  in  its  way.  The  negro  is  an 
imitative  creature,  and  the  way  in  which  our  field 
officers  were  "taken  off"  was  really  laughable. 
Our  colonel,  who  was  a  large,  portly,  fine-looking 
man,  occasionally,  under  the  influence  of  strong 
exasperation,  broke  out  in  a  torrent  of  impolite 
words,  swearing  with  a  vehemence  and  fluency 
that  was  rather  astonishing.  Adjutant  Latham  had 
a  peculiar  way  of  stringing  out  the  word  "  h-a-l-t  " 
in  cutting  short  a  badly  executed  evolution ;  the 
prolongation  was  indicative  of  rage,  astonishment 
and  disgust.  These  and  other  peculiarities  of  the 
field  officers  were  reproduced  in  the  negro  dress 
parade  with  just  a  shade  of  exaggeration.  Some 
of  the  commands  were  rich.  "Awdah — arms!" 
"  Come  to  an  awdah,  men."  "Report — arms!" 
1 '  Percure— arms  !  "  "  Charge— baynets  !  "  "  Put 
yosefon  a  charge,  sahgent.  Why  de  h — 11  don't 
you  come  to  a  charge?"  These  parades  were  a 
little  on  the  sly,  and  to  disperse  one  it  was  only 
necessary  to  hint  that  the  adjutant  was  coming  that 
way, when  a  panic,  equal  to  that  of  the  "  teamsters" 
at  Bull's  Run,  swept  away  the  black  cloud. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  197 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  Baltimore  secessionists  were  exceedingly 
restive  under  the  state  of  affairs  that  existed  after 
the  Government  thrust  its  meddlesome  fingers  into 
the  pie  of  Marshal  Kane  and  his  Confederate 
scoundrels.  The  pressure  of  Colonel  Dix's  rule 
was  just  heavy  enough  to  chafe  and  gall,  without 
being  sufficiently  stringent  to  keep  them  still.  If 
any  one  doubted  the  existence  of  free  speech  in 
Baltimore,  he  should  have  gone  there,  put  on  a 
Federal  uniform,  and  walked  through  some  of  the 
principal  streets,  when — if  he  had  eyes  and  ears- 
he  would  soon  have  been  convinced  that,  by  many 
of  the  good  citizens  of  that  goodly  city,  "  freedom 
of  speech"  was  abused  even  to  the  uttermost  lim 
its  of  licentiousness,  and  should  have  been  held  in 
check  by  a  liberal  administration  of  Franklin's 
antidote,  "Freedom  of  cudgel."  It  required  a 
fair  proportion  of.  German  phlegm,  considerable 
"cheek,"  and  a  skin  as  thick  as  that  of  a  rhinos- 
eros  to  enable  a  Federal  soldier,  officer  or  pri 
vate,  to  walk  the  streets  of  Baltimore,  and  pass 
through  the  ordeal  with  whole  bones  and  an  un 
ruffled  temper.  Contemptuous  looks,  insulting 
epithets,  ribald  jests,  and  vulgar  impertinences, 
were  showered  upon  him  in  a  profusion  bordering 
upon  prodigality,  while  shouts  for  "Jeff"  were 
frequent  and  loud.  And  for  those  insults  there 


190  THE    I, ATE    WAR. 

was  no  redress,  and  they  could  not  be  resented,  as 
that  might  bring  on  a  "collision."  When  a  sol 
dier  had  occasion  to  visit  the  city,  if  he  obeyed 
the  orders  of  Gen.  Dix,  he  trusted  himself  un 
armed  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Baltimore  ruf 
fians — themselves  armed  to  the  teeth  with  the  most 
approved  implements  of  throat-cutting  and  skull- 
splitting. 

The  ladies  of  Baltimore,  like  those  of  Washing 
ton,  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  interest  of  Se- 
cessia.  Protected  by  their  petticoats  as  well  as  by 
the  policy  of  General  Dix — a  policy  which  bore 
about  it  a  pungent  flavor  of  the  powerful  chemical 
compound  known  as  the  hydrate  of  milk — they  were 
even  more  openly  and  brazenly  insulting  than  the 
men.  Many  of  them  who,  from  their  appearance, 
seemed  to  be  the  cremc  de  la  creme  of  the  Balti 
more  beau  mondc,  appeared  to  be  totally  lost  to  all 
the  impulses  of  womanly  modesty,  or  even  com 
mon  decency,  which  attributes  seemed  to  have 
given  place  to  a  fierce,  blind,  vindictive  hatred, 
which  would  have  reveled  in  blood  if  it  had  only 
dared.  The  sight  of  a  blue  uniform  had  the  same 
effect  upon  them  that  scarlet  has  upon  a  bull  or 
turkey-cock,  and  they  gathered  up  their  rustling- 
skirts  as  if  fearful  of  contamination,  cocked  their 
pretty  noses  in  the  air,  tossed  their  heads  super 
ciliously,  and  with  a  show  of  inexpressible  disdain,, 
passed  on,  some  dropping  expressions,  which,, 
however  suitable  to  the  fish-market,  did  not  fall 
with  good  grace  from  the  lips  of  a  lady.  What 
was  a  man  to  do  under  such  circumstances?  WThip 


THE    LATE    WAR.  1 99 

the  first  "  secesher ''  he  met,  and  been  arrested  by 
General  Dix's  police,  or  should  he  have  "  grinned 
and  borne  it?"  If  the  ladies  had  been  ugly  it  would 
not  have  been  so  bad,  but,  as  the  devil  would  have 
it,  the  ladies  of  Baltimore  are  handsome,  and  the 
best  looking  seemed  to  be  the  most  inveterate 
haters  of  the  government.  The  secessionists  of 
Maryland  were  evidently  in  expectation  of  some 
thing  turning  up  shortly  to  favor  their  schemes,  as 
they  had  been  daily  growing  more  insufferably  in 
solent  in  their  demeanor.  What  particular  devil 
try  they  had  on  foot  at  that  time,  and  whether  their 
anticipations  were  ever  realized,  we  were  never 
fated  to  learn. 

The  arrival  of  a  detachment  of  prisoners  from 
Western  Virginia,  on  their  way  to  Old  Point,  from 
there  to  be  sent  to  Norfolk,  was  made  the  occasion 
of  a  sort  of  ovation  by  the  Baltimore  secessionists. 
The  prisoners  were  quartered  at  the  Gilmor  House, 
where  they  were  visited  by  large  numbers  of  their 
friends,  who  presented  them  with  new  clothes  and 
money,  and  escorted  them  to  the  boat,  followed  by 
a  miscellaneous  rabble,  which  shouted  for  Jeff 
Davis,  and  hooted  and  groaned  at  the  government. 
I  happened  to  be  in  the  city  at  the  time,  and  the 
scene  gave  me  some  faint  idea  of  a  Baltimore 
mob.  The  prisoners  were  mostly  Georgians,  and 
one  of  them  had  lost  a  leg,  and  another  an  arm  at 
the  battle  of  Rich  Mountain,  I  believe.  The  one 
who  had  lost  an  arm  was  a  fine-looking,  handsome 
fellow,  apparently  not  more  than  18  years  old, 
proud-spirited  and  haughty.  He  passed  near  where 


2OO  THE    LATE    WAR. 

I  was  standing,  with  some  others  of  the  Twenty- 
first,  and  recognizing  the  grey  uniform,  turned  and 
said:  "Indiana,  I  have  seen  you  fellows  before." 

I  do  not  wish  these  denunciations  of  Baltimore 
people  to  be  considered  as  embracing  all  the  popu 
lation.  On  the  contrary,  the  Union  men  were  gen 
erally  as  courteous,  affable  and  hospitable  as  any 
I  had  ever  met.  The  city,  in  more  than  one  char 
acteristic,  resembled  that  of  Louisville,  in  which 
there  are  some  of  the  best,  as  well  as  some  of  the 
meanest  people  in  the  world.  The  Government 
was  not  idle  in  view  of  the  designs  of  the  Confed 
erates  upon  Maryland,  and  the  signs  of  a  probable 
eruption  of  the  secession  volcano  in  Baltimore. 
Fort  McHenry  had  been  put  in  the  best  possible 
condition.  Fort  Carroll,  in  which  at  that  period 
there  were  no  guns,  soon  received  a  heavy  arma 
ment.  Federal  Hill — the  spot  upon  which  the 
constitution  was  ratified — where  the  first  Federal 
flag  was  unfurled — was  strongly  fortified,  and  a 
heavy  battery  was  erected  in  McKirrTs  wood,  back 
of  that  part  of  the  city  called  "Limerick." 

The  Twenty-first  Indiana  was  then  tolerably 
well  drilled,  and  the  boys  growled  vehemently  be 
cause  they  were  not  marched  at  once  into  Vir 
ginia.  They  said  they  did  not  enlist  to  guard 
steamboats  and  bridges,  but  to  fight.  The  health 
of  the  regiment  was  good.  Not  a  death  occurred, 
(save  the  occasional  demise  of  a  vagrant  goose), 
and  we  had  at  no  time  more  than  nine  in  hospital. 

The  regiment  bore  a  fine  reputation  among  the 
people  on  the  Point,  for  civility,  morality,  and  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  2OI 

observance  of  the  principles  of  meum  and  teum,  as 
compared  with  our  predecessors  in  that  locality, 
the  Pennsylvania  regiment,  of  Colonel  Miles.  Mr. 
Brakeman,  our  chaplain,  endeared  himself  to  us 
by  his  genial  manner  and  kindly  care  for  the  tem 
poral  as  well  as  the  spiritual  wants  of  all.  He  was 
a  minister  of  the  old-fashioned  Methodist  persua 
sion,  and  preached  sound,  practical  sermons,  with 
out  any  bias  of  sectarianism,  every  Sunday  morn 
ing,  with  semi-weekly  rations  of  prayer-meeting. 
Captain  Rose  was  also  a  Methodist  preacher,  and 
had  an  effective  hand  in  keeping  up  the  interest  of 
the  meetings.  Quite  a  number  of  the  regiment 
were  professing  Christians.  I  do  not  think  there 
was  a  man  of  any  intelligence  in  the  regiment, 
however  wicked  he  might  have  been  himself,  but 
said  God-speed  to  the  efforts  of  Chaplain  Brake 
man. 

One  Sunday,  as  the  sergeant  major,  O.  P. 
Hervey,  formerly  editor  of  a  Noble  county  paper, 
was  returning  from  a  visit  to  Captain  Roy's  en 
campment,  he  was  greeted  with  a  faint  and  tremu 
lous  shout  for  Jeff  Davis.  The  major,  although 
unarmed,  captured  the  rebel,  and,  under  threats  of 
taking  him  to  the  fort,  made  him  swear  to  support 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  and  of  In 
diana. 

We  had  been  at  Camp  Dix  a  full  month  before 
we  could  command  suitable  hospital  accommo 
dations.  And  it  was  only  after  two  good  and 
brave  men  (Thomas  Benham  and  J.  W.  Dyke), 
who  had  left  the  comforts,  the  peace  and  plenty  of 


2O2  THE    LATE    WAR. 

• 

home,  for  hardships  and  privations  in  defense  of 
their  country's  flag,  had  been  sacrificed,  that  the 
necessary  arrangements  could  be  effected  with  the 
circumlocution  office.  We  at  last  secured  rooms 
in  the  St.  Charles  Hotel — a  large,  unoccupied 
building  on  Locust  Point,  near  the  Broadway 
ferry-landing,  where  other  lives  were  probably 
saved,  though  it  was  too  late  for  Dyke  and  Ben- 
ham. 

The  famous  cigar-ship,  built  by  Ross  Winans, 
laid  over  the  way,  about  a  mile  from  camp.  In 
company  with  a  number  of  our  officers,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  going  all  over  and  through  it.  It  was 
built  entirely  of  iron,  the  plates  about  an  inch  in 
thickness,  and  was,  in  fact,  a  hollow  iron  tube, 
three  hundred  feet  in  length,  sixteen  in  its  greatest 
diameter,  and  pointed  very  sharp  at  both  ends.  It 
was  built  in  two  sections,  with  a  wheel,  twenty-six 
feet  in  diameter,  revolving  entirely  around  the  hull 
at  the  junction  of  the  two  sections,  which  was  a 
little  forward  of  the  center.  The  wheel  worked 
upon  the  screw  principle,  and  somewhat  resembled 
that  of  a  wind-mill.  The  vessel  had  two  rudders, 
forward  and  aft,  something  like  a  spade  in  shape, 
only  more  so.  The  appearance  of  the  boat  inside 
was  by  no  means  inviting.  It  was  dirty  and  hot, 
and  going  into  it  was  a  good  deal  like  crawling  into 
a  hollow  log.  The  gentleman  who  had  charge  of 
the  nondescript,  informed  us  that  it  could  be  turned 
completely  around  in  a  length  and  a  half,  and  pro 
pelled  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour.  It 
might  be  capable  of  mischief  in  running  down  ves- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  2OJ, 

sels,  but  could  carry  no  guns  of  any  consequence. 
I  understood  that  Mr.  Winans  had  a  model  for  an 
other  steamer  of  the  same  kind,  eight  hundred  feet 
long,  with  which  he  proposed  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
in  five  days. 

I  made  a  visit  to  Captain  Roy's  camp,  at  the 
Long  Bridge  over  the  Patapsco.  Captain  R.,  with 
half  of  his  company,  was  stationed  at  the  Long 
Bridge,  and  the  remainder  at  the  Switzer  bridge, 
three  miles  above.  These  two  bridges  had  been 
for  a  long  time  used  as  thoroughfares  for  the  con 
veyance  of  arms  and  ammunition  from  Baltimore 
to  the  secessionists  of  Anne  Arundel  county,  but 
the  game  was  blocked  so  far  as  they  were  con 
cerned,  as  Captain  Roy's  men  took  special  pains 
to  see  that  nothing  contraband  went  that  way.  For 
the  purpose  of  conveyance,  I  mounted  a  famous 
grey  horse  belonging  to  the  regiment — a  clever 
cross  between  a  camelopard  and  a  rhinoceros — 
and,  sometimes  trotting  with  our  fore-feet  and  gal 
loping  with  those  in  the  rear,  and  then  again  en 
joying  the  luxury  of  a  graceful,  undulating,  side- 
wise  shamble,  we  got  over  the  two  intervening 
miles  with  no  broken  bones,  but  not  without  terri 
ble  abrasions  of  the  part  in  contact  with  the  saddle. 
Captain  Roy's  tents  were  pitched  on  a  beautiful 
narrow  strip  of  ground  ornamented  with  shade 
trees.  On  one  side  was  the  sheet  of  water,  into 
which  the  Patapsco  emptied,  and  on  the  other  a 
lovely  lake,  almost  circular  in  form,  called  Spring 
Garden  Neck. 

The    Patapsco   at   Switzer   Bridge    degenerates- 


204  THE    LATE    WAR. 

into  an  insignificant  creek,  and  I  considered  my 
self  miserably  swindled  in  having  been  led  to 
think  it  a  river,  by  reason  of  its  spread  at  the 
mouth.  On  each  side,  the  streamlet  was  lined 
with  beautiful,  well-cultivated  farms,  with  hand 
some  dwellings,  tall  corn,  worthy  of  an  Indiana 
prairie,  and  immense  peach  orchards,  loaded  with 
large,  luscious  fruit.  The  most  of  the  people  were 
theoretical  secessionists,  but  not  at  all  vicious. 
They  readily  confessed  they  were  secessionists  in 
principle,  but  at  the  same  time  were  social  and 
hospitable,  perfectly  satisfied  to  keep  out  of  the 
fight,  and  follow  their  avocations  in  peace. 

There  were  probably  some  six  or  eight  thousand 
troops  in  and  around  Baltimore.  They  came  and 
went  so  fast  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  a 
closer  estimate. 


CHAPTER  III. 


BUT  little  ever  occurs  to  relieve  the  daily  routine 
of  life  in  camp,  the  monotony  of  which,  notwith 
standing  the  fact  of  being  well  housed  and  fed, 
soon  became  intolerable.  Our  food  was  of  ex 
cellent  quality,  and  abundant  in  quantity,  but 
there  was  not  a  man  in  the  regiment,  from  col 
onel  down  to  the  last  private,  who  would  not 
rather  have  slept  on  the  grass  and  fed  on  sheet- 
iron  crackers,  if  he  could  have  exchanged  the 
monotonous  drudgery  of  Locust  Point  for  active 


THE    LATE    WAR.  205 

service,  where  there  was  a  chance  of  burning 
"  villainous  saltpetre  "  in  sport  more  exciting  than 
popping  blank  cartridges  in  the  air,  or  firing  at  a 
barrel  in  the  water.  Trudging  up  and  down  in 
front  of  rickety  wooden  bridges,  and  inspecting 
market  wagons,  or  sweltering  between  the  greasy 
and  by  no  means  fragrant  decks  of  a  bay  steamer, 
keeping  wratch  and  ward  over  bales  and  hogs 
heads  and  barrels,  might  have  been  serving  one's 
country  in  some  sense,  but  it  did  not  meet  the  pre 
conceived  notions  of  war  entertained  by  our  rough 
and  ready  Hoosier  boys,  who,  naturally  restive, 
under  a  stringency  of  discipline  for  which  they 
were  but  illy  prepared  by  previous  unrestrained 
indulgence  in  the  pleasant  fiction  that  this  was  a 
"free  country,"  grumbled  and  growled  and  swore 
profusely.  In  a  word,  it  was  not  remunerative.  In 

short  it  did  not  pay.     Even 's  regiment, 

which,  without  intending  the  least  disparagement, 
was  not  quite  up  to  the  mark  of  the  Twenty-first, 
had  the  luck  to  escape  Locust  Point,  and  was  fa 
vored  with  a  fleeting  and  transitory  glimpse  of  the 
elephant.  But  we  consoled  ourselves  with  dismal 
lockings-forward  to  the  good  time  coming,  and  the 
hope  that  when  there  was  real  fighting  to  do,  the 
Twenty-first  would  not  be  overlooked  when  the 
tickets  of  invitation  were  issued. 

At  this  time  Baltimore  was  in  a  state  of  ferment 
under  the  new  and  somewhat  vigorous  exertions 
of  Governor  Dix  to  throttle  the  seditious  spirit  in 
that  rebellious  city.  The  number  of  arrests  made 
— some  of  them  reaching  persons  of  high  stand- 


2O6  THE    LATE    WAR. 

ing  in  public  and  private  life — and  the  boldness 
and  promptness  of  the  measures  taken,  rendered 
the  rebels  qualmish,  and  a  long  and  loud  whine 
went  up  from  the  persecuted  innocents  because  of 
the  enormity  of  suppressing  secession  badges, 
cheering  Jeff  Davis,  and  kindred  harmless  mani 
festations  of  opinion.  They  who  roared  louder 
than  all  the  bulls  of  Bashan,  and  vapored  like 
turkey-cocks,  soon  cooed  as  gently  as  a  sucking 
dove.  Rebeldom  was  vociferous  for  peace.  Red- 
handed,  and  with  the  steam  of  the  murders  of  the 
1 9th  of  April  rising  from  their  smoking  garments, 
they  prated  of  "peace."  But  they  were  not  iso 
lated  in  their  efforts  to  restore  peace.  Through 
out  the  broad  prairies  of  the  West,  and  amid  the 
rocky  hills  of  staid  old  New  England,  the  piping 
cry  of  peace,  and  the  sophistry  and  cant  accom 
panying  it  was  the  same  that  arose  from  the  peace- 
enamored  scoundrels  of  blood-stained  Baltimore. 
The  similarity  between  the  peace  talk  of  Vallan- 
digham,  and  others  of  that  ilk,  and  the  secession 
ists  of  Maryland,  was  peculiarly  suggestive. 

A  portion  of  the  Maine  regiment  that  was  moved 
down  to  Potter's  Hill,  just  north  of  us,  across  the 
right  arm  of  the  Patapsco  neck,  threw  up  exten 
sive  earth-works  there,  forming  a  portion  of  the 
very  complete  fortifications  that  surrounded  Balti 
more,  and  made  it  appear  so  threatening  to  J. 
Davis  and  Co.,  when  they  looked  longingly  to 
wards  that  fair  city  of  down-trodden  Maryland. 

Heavy  firing  was  heard  for  several  days  some 
where  to  the  southward,  and  we  were  annoyed 


THE    LATE    WAR.  2OJ 

with  all  sorts  of  vexatious  rumors  of  impossible  en 
gagements  at  Munson's  Hill  and  other  points,  san 
guinary  beyond  all  precedent  in  character,  and  in 
volving  mortality  lists  of  enormous  length  ;  but  our 
boys  from  being  remarkably  credulous  had  passed 
through  the  various  stages  of  skepticism  until  they 
had  gone  into  a  chronic  state  of  hopeless  unbelief 
in  everything  which  did  not  transpire  beneath  their 
own  immediate  observation. 

In  conformity  with  General  McClellan's  orders, 
our  troops  shed  the  greasy,  dingy,  shabby  suit  of 
Indiana  grey,  and  donned  the  regulation  blue.  It 
was  a  parting  that  entailed  no  regret,  for  we  were 
heartly  disgusted  with,  and  ashamed  of,  it.  It  was 
always  being  washed  and  always  dirty  and  greasy. 

General  Dix,  anxious  to  know  the  facts  in  the 
case  of  the  terrible  affray  at  Port  Deposit,  sent 
Major  Hayes  down  there  to  investigate  the  matter, 
and  I  accompanied  him. 

We  left  Baltimore  at  half  past  eight  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  arrived  in  Havre,  twenty-eight  miles  dis 
tant,  about  half  past  ten.  The  road  passed  through 
a  poor  agricultural  country,  much  resembling,  were 
it  not  for  the  visible  admixture  of  pine,  cedar  and 
chestnut,  with  the  scrub  oaks,  the  "barren"  re 
gions  of  Indiana  and  South  Illinois. 

Havre  de  Grace  is  a  quaint  old  town  situated  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Susquehanna,  forcibly  reminding 
one  of  the  sleepy  Dutch  burgs  so  felicitously  de 
scribed  by  Washington  Irving.  Its  slumberous 
appearance  was  somewhat  relieved  by  the  fact  of 


2C>8  THE    LATE    WAR. 

a  part  of  the  Fourth  Regiment,  New  York  Volun 
teers,  being  stationed  there. 

Going  down  to  the  water  to  take  the  boat  for 
Port  Deposit,  we  passed  a  member  of  the  Fourth 
New  York  (Scott  Life  Guards),  afflicted  with  a 
chronic  mania  for  desertion,  in  an  uncomfortable 
position.  He  was  lying  with  his  face  in  the  sand, 
his  arms  thrown  around  a  pillar  supporting  the 
bridge,  and  heavily  manacled.  He  was  enjoying 
a  profound  slumber,  embellished  with  prolonged 
and  sonorous  snores. 

The  Fairy,  a  little  side-wheel  steamer,  pointed 
sharp  at  both  ends,  was  waiting  for  us.  First  a 
detatchment  of  the  guard  went  aboard,  then  the 
prisoners  filed  in,  then  followed  the  rest  of  the 
guard,  officers  of  the  Scott  Life  Guards,  Mr. 
Meade  Addison,  U.  S.  District  Attorney,  Major 
Hayes  and  myself,  with  a  sprinkling  of  civilians 
bringing  up  the  rear.  All  aboard,  and  comfortably 
smoking  under  an  awning  on  the  upper  deck,  a 
bell,  large  enough  for  the  Great  Eastern,  rang 
furiously,  and  the  Fairy  steamed  away  for  Port 
Deposit,  five  miles  above,  on  the  Susquehanna. 

Port  Deposit  was  an  old  town  then,  consisting  of 
one  long  and  crooked  street  built  in  the  narrow 
space  between  the  river  and  the  bluff.  Many  of  the 
houses  were,  large,  heavy  stone  buildings,  strong 
enough  for  forts,  and  built  of  a  beautiful,  hard, 
grey  granite,  with  which  the  quarries  in  the 
neighboring  bluffs  abounded.  Others  were  built 
of  wood,  and  plastered  on  the  outside  in  a  quaint, 
old-fashioned  style.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 


THE    LATE    WAR.  209 

wealth,  and  the  town  formerly  did  a  heavy  business 
In  grain,  stone,  lime,  lumber  and  liquor.  It  was 
then  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Susquehanna, 
and  a  great  forwarding  point,  but  some  public 
work — the  building  of  a  road  or  the  cutting  of  a 
canal,  I  don't  remember  which — nipped  the  shoot 
of  its  rising  greatness  ;  since  which  time  it  has  with 
difficulty  "  held  its  own."  The  citizens  were  about 
equally  divided  between  "Union"  and  "Peace" 
(Anglice  "Secesh"),  and  each  party  was  equally 
enthusiastic.  A  fine  company  of  Home  Guards 
was  armed  with  rifled  muskets,  and  prepared  at 
any  moment  to  use  them. 

From  a  laborious  examination  before  the  jury  of 
inquest,  the  following  particulars  were  gleaned  of 
the  collision:  A  "peace  meeting"  was  being  held 
in  the  barber  shop  of  a  hotel,  a  number  of  soldiers 
of  the  Scott  Life  Guard  were  in  Port  Deposit,  and 
some  eight  or  ten  of  them  went  into  the  bar-room 
— a  secession  house — and  drank  at  the  bar.  Learn 
ing  that  a  peace  meeting  was  being  held  in  the 
barber  shop,  the  door  of  which  was  open,  two  of 
them  entered,  and  one  of  them  waved  a  small  flag 
over  the  table  where  the  votes  were  being  counted, 
denounced  the  meeting  as  a  secession  one,  and 
declared  his  intention  of  breaking  it  up.  There 
were  about  fifty  persons  in  the  room,  and  they  rose, 
roughly  expelled  the  soldiers,  and  followed  them 
into  the  bar-room,  where  a  bloody  and  general  fight 
ensued,  in  which  fists,  clubs,  chairs,  spittoons  and 
knives  were  freely  used.  After  a  time  the  fight 
ing  was  adjourned  to  the  street,  where  the  sol- 
14 


2IO  THE    LATE    WAR. 

diers  were  chased  with  stones  about  fifty  yards, when 
they  rallied,  and  in  turn  chased  their  pursuers.  Two 
men  were  killed  instantly  in  the  bar-room.  They 
were  both  stabbed  in  the  neck.  Two  citizens 
were  also  stabbed,  one  in  the  face  and  arm,  the 
other  in  the  neck.  Two  or  three  soldiers  were 
stabbed,  but  not  fatally,  and  others  severely  beaten, 
one  having  the  temporal  bone  on  the  left  side  of 
the  face  broken  from  a  blow  with  a  spittoon.  The 
scene  in  the  bar-room  was  described  as  being  hor 
rible  in  the  extreme.  The  floor  was  literally 
drenched  in  blood.  Men  lying  dead,  and  soldiers 
scattered  around,  knocked  senseless  from  blows. 
The  evidence  on  the  part  of  secession  witnesses 
was  so  conflicting  as  to  destroy  its  credibility. 
Nothing  was  elicited  to  show  that  the  soldiers 
made  a  preconcerted  attack  on  the  meeting,  or  that 
there  was  a  knife  among  them.  The  presumption 
was  that,  after  being  beaten  with  chairs  and  blud 
geons,  and  some  of  them  stabbed,  one  of  them 
wrenched  a  knife  from  a  citizen's  hand  and  used  it 
with  deadly  effect.  The  two  men  killed  were  both 
violent  secessionists,  one  of  them  an  estimable 
man,  but  hasty  in  temper  and  frantic  on  the  seces 
sion  question.  The  other  was  a  man  of  violent 
habits,  and  had  been  frequently  engaged  in  stab 
bing  affrays.  A  witness  of  undoubted  veracity, 
who  viewed  the  fight  through  a  broken  pane  in  a 
window,  and  who  gave  his  evidence  in  a  clear  and 
circumstantial  manner,  testified  that  he  saw  the  lat 
ter  with  a  soldier's  head  jammed  down  over  the 
counter  and  repeatedly  striking  him  with  a  club. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  211 

All  the  witnesses  testified  to  the  quiet  and  gentle 
manly  deportment  of  the  soldiers  up  to  the  time  of 
their  interruption  of  the  meeting.  The  jury  re 
turned  a  verdict  which  did  not  implicate  the  sol 
diers  any  more  than  the  citizens. 

At  Perryville,  opposite  Havre  de  Grace,  a  great 
mule  and  wagon  depot  had  been  established. 
The  American  flag  at  that  point  waved  in  triumph 
over  six  thousand  mules  and  three  thousand  wa 
gons,  with  fresh  arrivals  every  day.  A  thick, 
heavy  cloud  of  dust  hovered  over  the  region 
round  about,  and  the  air  was  resonant  with  multi 
tudinous  brays,  intermingled  with  the  hoarse  cries 
of  the  mule-breaker. 

Returning  down  from  Port  Deposit  by  the  river 
road,  we  came  upon  a  vast  corral  of  United  States 
wagons,  inclosing  a  space  of  five  or  six  acres.  In 
side  the  inclosure  a  perfect  forest  of  long  ears,  and 
a  compact  mass  of  black  hides  were  working  and 
surging  to  and  fro.  There  were  quite  a  number 
of  these  pens  near  Perryville,  each  containing  fif 
teen  hundred  or  two  thousand  mules,  collected 
from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  stored  in  those 
pens  to  await  the  process  of  breaking. 

Some  distance  from  the  pen  we  found  the  break 
ing-ground,  where  about  a  hundred  lusty  darkies 
were  engaged  in  the  work  of  taking  the  mules 
through  a  rudimentary  course  of  instruction  pre 
paratory  to  fitting  them  for  duty  in  harness.  The 
process  of  breaking  was  exciting  and  interesting, 
and  not  unattended  with  danger.  The  mule  was 
driven  into  a  "chute  "  just  the  width  of  his  body, 


212  THE    LATE    WAR. 

with  strong  wooden  bars  on  each  side,  which  pre 
vented  his  kicking  out  laterally,  and  at  the  same 
time  admitted  of  his  being  handled  through  the 
y  cracks.  A  rope  was  then  fastened  to  his  jaw,  and 
another  tied  as  a  girth  around  his  barrel ;  after 
which  one  was  attached  to  his  fore-feet  and  passed 
under  the  girth  and  out  at  the  rear,  in  which  condi 
tion  he  was  turned  out  for  the  preliminary  exer 
cises,  consisting  of  a  series  of  frantic  plunges,  with 
some  ludicrous  ground  and  lofty  tumbling  and 
vicious  attempts  to  bite  and  strike  with  his  fore 
feet.  This  exercise  continued  for  a  longer  or 
shorter  period  of  time,  according  to  the  intelli 
gence  and  obstinacy  of  the  subject.  But  your 
mule  is  not  altogether  such  a  fool  as  he  looks,  and 
after  coming  to  grief  a  matter  of  a  dozen  times  by 
means  of  the  check  rope,  he  wisely  concluded  that 
plunging  and  rearing  was  not  remunerative,  and 
lay  still,  either  reflecting  or  groaning  piteously. 
If  unusually  obstinate  through  the  first  lesson,  he 
was  trotted  around  the  course  at  a  double  quick 
and  his  hide  copiously  anointed  with  a  stout  cudgel. 

After  the  first  course,  the  mule  being  supposed 
to  have  absorbed  something  of  the  rudiments  of 
his  education,  was  reconducted  to  the  "chute," 
where  he  was  invested  with  harness  and  again  led 
forth,  and  another  series  of  gymnastic  exercises 
took  place. 

After  becoming  somewhat  accustomed  to  the 
harness,  they  were  hitched  up  to  the  large  wagons 
and  driven  around  the  course.  The  operation  of 
hitching  up  was  a  delicate  one,  requiring  great 


THE    LATE    WAR.  213 

care.  The  negro  approached  cautiously  and  gin 
gerly,  with  his  eye  fixed  on  the  mule's  ears.  If  a 
suspicious  movement  of  the  auricular  appendages 
was  seen,  the  startled  African  sprang  backward 
quick  as  lightning,  just  in  time  to  escape  a  flash 
ing  pair  of  heels.  Again  he  approached,  and 
finally  succeeded  in  hitching  up.  A  brace  of 
broken  mules  were  usually  put  in  the  rear,  with  a 
team  of  wild  ones  in  front. 

When  the  mule  is  shod,  a  broad  leather  belt  is 
passed  around  his  body  and  he  is  hoisted  clear, 
then  his  feet  are  drawn  back  and  fastened,  when 
he  helplessly  submits  to  the  operation  of  shoeing, 
emitting  sundry  protests  in  the  way  of  snorts  and 
groans. 

When  curried,  it  is  an  operation  which  hardly 
pays  for  the  danger  incurred.  The  mule  is  alto 
gether  too  handy  with  his  heels  to  render  it  desira 
ble  employment.  Sometimes  a  curry  comb  is  fas 
tened  to  an  eight-foot  pole,  when  the  groom  stands 
out  of  range  and  rakes  him  down  from  "long 
taw." 

Negroes  were  exclusively  employed  in  the  break 
ing  and  training  of  mules  at  Perry ville.  I  asked 
one  of  the  men  superintending  the  matter  why  this, 
was  so.  "Well,"  said  he,  "a  negro  is  the  next 
thing  to  a  mule,  anyhow.  They  understand  each 
other  better,  and  there  is  a  natural  affinity  of  char 
acter  between  them.  The  negroes  like  it,  and  d — d 
if  I  don't  believe  the  mules  like  it  too.  At  any 
rate,  a  negro  can  break  a  mule  twice  as  quickly  as 
a  white  man,  and  can  get  more  out  of  him  after 


214  THE    LATE    WAR. 

he  is  broken.     We  tried  white  men,  but  it  wouldn't 
do.     The  mules  have  no  confidence  in  them." 

A  great  many  people  wondered  why  General 
McClellan  did  not  make  a  forward  movement.  If 
they  had  gone  to  Perryville  and  seen  the  vast  pens 
of  mule  flesh,  the  wagons,  the  stores  of  forage, 
forges,  harness  and  equipments,  they  would  have 
known  what  he  was  waiting  for. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WE  moved  our  camp  from  Locust  Point  up  to 
the  neighborhood  of  Druid  Hill  Park,  a  beautiful 
location,  with  a  fine  shade  of  oak  and  sweet  gum 
trees,  high  and  rolling,  and  excellent  spring  water. 
Our  camp  was  now  called  Camp  Murray.  We 
anticipated  a  great  deal  of  benefit,  in  the  sanitary 
way,  from  the  change.  Notwithstanding  the  opin 
ion  of  some,  I  do  not  believe  that  dirt  is  the  cause 
of  the  greater  part  of  camp  sickness.  At  Locust 
Point,  our  boys  were  regularly  driven  to  the  water 
and  washed,  like  sheep,  and  yet  intermittent, 
typhoid,  and  vile,  low-grade  fevers,  for  which 
there  is  no  name,  but  resembling  the  Southern 
•"  dengue"  or  "break-bone,"  prevailed. 

September  26th,  1861,  was  pretty  generally  ob 
served  by  the  citizens  of  Baltimore  as  a  day  of 
fasting,  humiliation  and  prayer — the  Baltimoreans 
fasted  on  oysters  and  cocktails,  preyed  promiscu- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  2 15 

ously  upon  each  other,  and  "humiliated"  them 
selves  by  pious  pilgrimages  behind  2  140  horses  to 
Druid  Hill  Park,  or  sailed  leisurely  down  the  Bay, 
and  drew  miniature  leviathans  from  the  "vasty 
deep"  with  a  hook.  Business  houses,  Union  and 
Secession,  were  alike  closed,  and  the  city  had  a 
sort  of  holiday  appearance.  The  churches  were 
crowded,  and  the  Throne  of  Grace  besieged,  with 
petitions  and  counter  petitions,  from  different  mem 
bers  of  the  same  church,  praying  to  the  same  God, 
that  events  widely  apart  might  come  to  pass. 

Throngs  of  citizens  visited  the  various  military 
encampments  about  the  city  ;  our  own  (which  at 
Locust  Point  was  rarely  brightened  with  visitors  of 
the  female  persuasion,  apple  women  and  negroes 
excepted,)  came  in  for  a  full  share.  'The  Mary 
land  regiment,  at  Camp  Carroll,  and  the  Sixth 
Michigan,  in  camp  at  Prospect  Hill,  on  the  York 
road,  had  flag  presentations,  at  which  the  usual 
ceremonies  were  observed  and  the  usual  patriotic 
speeches,  abounding  in  valorous  war-talk,  couched 
in  prettily-worded,  smoothly-turned  sentences,  were 
made.  This  was  a  thing  we  were  heartily  tired  of. 
We  had  seen  enough  of  the  flummery  of  war,  and 
now  wanted  the  reality.  Speeches  were  well 
enough  to  amuse  women,  children  and  "sweet 
young  men"  whose  business  interests  were  such 
that  they  could  not  leave  home,  but  we  wanted  to 
hear  the  cannqn's  roar. 

Our  boys  were  highly  pleased  with  their  new 
camp  and  we  indignant  that  they  should  have  been 
kept  so  long  at  Locust  Point,  when  this  beautiful 


2l6  THE    LATE    WAR. 

spot  was  unoccupied.  We  had  been  so  long  on  the 
barren  sand  of  Camp  Dix  that  the  very  sight  of  a 
tree  was  exhilarating.  The  site  of  our  camp  was 
covered  with  fine  old  oaks  and  sweet  gums.  One 
venerable  fellow,  which  had  probably  outlived  more 
tempests  than  there  were  acorns  on  its  branches, 
struck  its  gnarled  roots  into  the  earth  just  in  front 
of  our  tent,  and  spread  its  protecting  arms  in  a 
patronizing  way  over  us.  A  swarm  of  insects  of 
the  cicada  tribe  rendezvoused  in  its  branches  ;  the 
cheerful  music  of  their  prattling  gossip  proclaimed 
some  naughty  things  which  Katy-did. 

We  formed  a  much  better  opinion  of  the  socia 
bility  of  Baltimore  people  after  we  came  to  Camp 
Murray.  Throngs  of  them  came  to  see  our  dress 
parades,  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  and  handsomely 
dressed  lady  equestrians,  who  rode  and  looked 
charmingly,  favored  us  with  their  presence.  Our 
colonel  was  the  recipient  of  so  many  testimonials 
of  good  will  from  the  female  portion  of  our  vis 
itors,  in  the  shape  of  tastefully  arranged  bouquets, 
that  there  was  danger  of  his  becoming  a  little  vain. 

Our  camp  was  named  after  the  gentleman  who 
owned  the  ground,  to  whom  we  were  indebted  for 
many  favors. 

Every  day  rumors  of  terrible  fighting  along  the 
Potomac  reached  the  city,  and  finally  floated  out 
to  camp,  magnified  and  distorted  in  all  possible 
shapes  of  absurdity,  but  they  failed  to  excite  at 
tention.  The  fact  was,  we  had  made  up  our 
minds  to  go  into  winter  quarters  in  Baltimore,  and 
had  turned  our  attention  to  base-ball — the  enjoy- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  2 17 

ments  of  the  creature  comforts,  and  the  cultivation 
of  female  society,  neither  knowing  nor  caring 
whether  Beauregard  was  to  winter  in  Philadelphia, 
or  McClellan  in  Richmond.  We  had  waited  and 
watched  and  prayed  for  active  service  through  the 
various  stages  of  sanguine  hope  to  despair,  which 
was  finally  ended  in  indifference,  until  we  were 
prepared  to  fall  in  with  any  fly-blown  policy  the 
government  might  choose  to  pursue.  If  we  must 
go  into  winter  quarters  in  the  North,  I  did  not 
know  any  better  place  than  Baltimore,  where  we 
were  well  fed  and  comfortably  housed.  The  col 
onel,  however,  was  resolved  to  make  one  last  effort 
to  get  in  the  field  before  the  winter  set  in. 

Our  regiment  had  cast  its  greasy  shell  of  In 
diana  grey  and  bloomed  in  regulation  blue.  The 
change  for  the  better  in  the  appearance  of  the  men 
was  almost  incredible.  They  looked  like  different 
men  altogether,  and  compared  favorably  in  per 
sonal  appearance  and  proficiency  with  anybody's 
regiment.  Indeed,  I  think  I  might  hazard  the  as 
sertion  that  we  had  the  best  drilled,  best  equipped, 
best  fed  and  best  looking  regiment  that  had  yet 
left  the  State.  We  had  exchanged  the  old  mus 
kets  received  at  Indianapolis  for  German  rifles — chef 
d"  auvres  of  Dutch  ingenuity  in  the  way  of  clumsi 
ness  of  exterior,  but  of  exquisite  finish  of  the  interior, 
and  good  range.  The  two  flank  companies  kept 
their  Enfield  rifles,  which  after  all  were  the  deadliest 
weapons  in  the  hands  of  men  who  knew  how  to  use 
them.  The  nipping  cold  of  the  nights  was  a  dis 
agreeable  hint  of  the  near  approach  of  winter. 


2l8  THE    LATE    WAR. 

The  woods  were  glorious  with  the  gorgeous  hues 
•of  the  dying  autumn — the  green  and  golden  of  the 
maple,  the  crimson  of  the  gum  and  sumach,  and  the 
.sombre  brown  of  the  oak.  The  dropping  nuts,  the 
leaden  sky,  the  wailing  breeze  crooning  a  requiem 
among  the  branches  of  the  oaks  for  the  departed 
glories  of  the  summer,  all  reminded  us  that  the 
"melancholy  days  had  come,"  and  engendered 
lugubrious  cogitations  on  the  budding  hope  and 
blasted  fruits  of  man's  ambition. 

Almost  a  year  had  elapsed  since  this  rebellion,  so 
long  brewing,  had  broken  out  with  the  secession  of 
South  Carolina.  Armies,  vaster  in  proportion  and 
more  terrible  in  equipment  than  any  the  world  had 
seen  since  the  days  of  the  great  Napoleon,  had 
sprung  full-armed  into  existence,  while  a  mighty 
government  convulsed  the  world-  with  its  struggles 
to  maintain  itself,  and  the  tread  of  armed  men  re 
sounded  from  Maine  to  California.  How  well  did 
we  remember  the  jests  and  sneers  of  the  arrogant 
•  and  self-sufficient  North  at  the  rebellion  when  it 
first  broke  out.  We  roared  and  shook  our  sides 
with  merriment,  and  fired  broadsides  of  epigrams 
at  the  rebels  while  they  worked,  drilled,  stole  guns 
,and  built  batteries.  The  joke  was  too  good — we 
must  humor  it.  Then  Sumter  fell,  and  the  North 
exploded  in  an  unaccountable  rage.  That  which 
was  known  must  finally  take  place — that  which  had 
been  calmly  and  quietly  contemplated  for  months — 
.set  the  entire  North  in  a  blaze.  Then  all  the  talk 
was  for  "crushing  out"  the  rebellion — for  sweep 
ing  the  last  vestige  of  treason  from  the  land,  and 


THE    LATE    WAR.  219 

hanging  the  arch-traitors  ;  but  gradually  and  surely 
the  ugly  fact  dawned  upon  us  that  treason  was  not 
to  be  crushed  out  with  words  ;  that  the  misguided 
traitors  were  terribly  in  earnest,  and  had  avoided 
the  error  which  had  so  nearly  proved  fatal  to  us — 
of  under-rating  the  magnitude  of  the  task  before 
them.  Bull  Run  was  a  gentle  reminder  that  un 
disciplined  masses,  however  brave,  could  not  march 
uninterruptedly  "on  to  Richmond  ;  "  that  self-con 
fidence  was  not  a  match  for  superior  generalship, 
nor  a  substitute  for  discipline  ;  that  to  despise  an 
enemy  was  not  to  conquer  him.  But  still  we  found 
a  general  disposition  among  the  people  at  large  of 
the  North  to  under-rate  the  strength  and  energy 
of  the  rebels.  People  whose  "business"  would 
not  permit  them  to  enlist,  continued  to  talk  in  a 
loose,  rambling  way  of  "crushing  out"  the  rebel 
lion,  while  the  God's  truth  was  that  from  the  first 
the  rebellion  had  steadily  and  persistently  gained 
ground  and  was  more  formidable  than  it  ever  had 
been. 

I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  ultimate 
triumph  of  the  Government,  but  that  triumph  must 
be  the  result  of  earnest  work  and  hard  fighting, 
and  not  the  frothing  talk  of  fools  and  bigots.  I 
know  the  temper  of  these  Southerners  too  well  to 
flatter  myself,  that  even  the  defeat  and  utter  de 
struction  of  their  army  in  Virginia,  would  end  the 
war.  Rumor  had  it  that  we  were  to  leave  here 
immediately.  As  for  myself,  I  was  prepared  to 
hybernate  for  the  winter.  Our  household  con- 


22O  THE    LATE    WAR. 

sisted  of  myself  and  comrade,  a  bench-leg  dogr 
and  a  cat  of  great  blackness. 

The  health  of  the  regiment  was  good  ;  most  all 
the  cases  in  the  hospital  when  we  left  Locust 
Point,  had  got  out,  and  no  new  ones  had  been  sent 
from  Druid  Hill. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WE  again  removed  our  camp,  and  were  located 
just  outside  of  the  fortifications  on  Murray  Hill, 
Snake  Hill,  or  Potter's  Hill,  as  the  place  was  vari- 
iously  designated,  on  the  ground  just  vacated  by 
the  Tenth  Maine,  which  left  for  the  Potomac  the 
day  we  came  down.  Murray  Hill  was  in  the  im 
mediate  vicinity  of  Canton.  Canton  was  a  bad- 
smelling  suburb  of  Baltimore,  consisting  principally 
of  ragged  cuts  and  holes  in  the  ground,  fringed 
around  the  edges  with  dingy  houses,  sheltering  a. 
mingled  population  of  Dutch,  Irish  and  negroes, 
the  most  of  them  identified  with  beer  and  laundry 
interests.  Flocks  of  straggling  geese  and  herds 
of  savory  goats  lent  to  the  place  a  pastoral  appear 
ance,  and  mangy,  ill-looking,  half-starved  curs 
sniffed  suspiciously  at  the  heels  of  the  pedestrian. 

Discharges  had  been  made  out  and  forwarded  to- 
the  war  department  for  fifty  or  sixty  of  our  men. 
A  great  many  of  those  were  cases  which  a  rigid 
inspection  at  the  time  of  enlistment  would  have 
rejected.  The  necessity  for  a  closer  inspection  of 


THE    LATE    WAR.  221 

recruits  should  have  been  impressed  upon  colonels 
who  were  raising  new  regiments.  The  enlistment 
of  weak  lungs  and  rheumatic  temperaments  was  a 
dead  loss,  and,  in  some  sense,  a  fraud  upon  the 
government ;  besides,  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in 
.filling  up  might  have  been  avoided  by  selecting 
good  men  in  the  start.  We  were  not  likely  to 
have  any  trouble  in  keeping  the  regiment  full,  as 
new  recruits  came  on  from  Indiana  almost  as  fast 
as  there  were  vacancies. 

The  work  on  the  fort  was  pushed  on  with  vigor. 
The  earth-works  were  completed  in  a  few  days, 
and  the  guns  mounted.  The  armament  consisted 
of  thirty-eight  guns,  some  of  them  of  the  heaviest 
calibre.  The  position  was  a  beautiful  one,  com 
manding  the  city,  the  harbor,  and  Fort  McHenry. 
The  elevation  was  much  above  that  of  Fort  Mc 
Henry,  and  greater  than  that  of  Federal  Hill. 
With  these  three  powerful  fortifications,  Baltimore 
was  made  rather  hot  to  serve  as  winter  quarters 
for  Beauregard's  army. 

The  general  impression  was  that  as  soon  as  the 
works  on  Murray  Hill  were  completed,  we  would 
go  into  winter  quarters  inside  the  walls.  There 
had  been  loud  and  continued  growling  from  the 
men  at  the  policy  of  keeping  us  here,  while  regi 
ment  after  regiment  of  raw  recruits,  in  a  very  em- 
bryotic  condition  as  regarded  drill,  and  almost 
guiltless  of  discipline,  were  forwarded  to  the  thea 
ter  of  war ;  and  the  colonel,  who,  having  got  his 
regiment  into  excellent  fighting  condition,  was 
anxious  to  give  it  an  airing  in  the  field,  fumed  and 


222  THE    LATE    WAR. 

fretted  as  much  as  any  of  them.  It  was  very  grat 
ifying  to  be  in  high  favor  at  headquarters,  and  we 
were  very  much  obliged  to  Gen.  Dix  for  his  excel 
lent  opinion  of  us,  but  we  could  dispense  with  a 
portion  of  it,  for  the  consideration  of  being  taken 
into  service. 

The  weary  monotony  of  camp  life  was  right 
sharply  relieved  by  a  variety  of  "moving  inci 
dents,  by  flood  and  field" — mostly  flood.  For 
twenty-four  hours  the  wind  blew  a  terrible  gale, 
and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  spiced  with  occasional 
"spurts"  of  sleet  and  hail.  Flies  were  carried 
away,  guy-ropes  snapped,  and  in  some  instances, 
tents  were  lifted  bodily  from  the  ground,  and  the 
shivering  inmates  exposed  to  a  "pitiless  pelt 
ing."  Our  camp  was  left  in  an  interesting  condi 
tion.  A  hundred  little  torrents,  thick  with  red  earth 
washed  from  the  walls  of  the  fort,  poured  through 
the  streets  and  into  the  tents,  forming  little  ponds 
in  all  the  basins  and  drowning  out  the  camp-fires. 
The  earth  was  tramped  into  a  thin,  slushy  mortar, 
in  which  geese  paddled  and  squawked  around,  and 
the  only  two  pigs  I  had  seen  since  leaving  Ohio, 
were  rooting. 

The  soldiers  took  advantage  of  a  transitory 
gleam  of  sunshine,  and  blankets,  clothing,  and 
other  fixings  were  hung  out  in  every  available  spot. 
The  boys  came  out  strong  under  their  trials,  and 
were  jolly  as  even  Mark  Tapley  could  have  wished 
under  the  only  real  hardships  to  which  they  had 
been  exposed,  showing  that  however  much  they 
might  growl  and  grumble  at  trifles,  when  anything 


THE    LATE    WAR. 


was  to  be  endured,  the  responsibility  of  which 
could  not  be  consistently  saddled  upon  the  quar 
termaster,  or  their  company  officers,  they  had  in 
them  the  stuff  to  make  soldiers.  Men  who  would 
growl  terribly  at  the  slightest  symptom  of  acidity 
in  bread,  or  the  faintest  suspicion  of  rustiness  in 
bacon,  whom  nothing  less  than  "iced  water  and 
milk"  in  summer,  and  hot  rolls  and  butter  in 
winter,  would  have  contented  —  wet,  cold,  and 
hungry,  sang  songs  in  the  mud,  and  greeted  each 
fresh  mishap  with  roars  of  laughter.  Not  a  few 
ludicrous  scenes  might  be  recorded  of  the  progress 
of  the  gale.  About  four  o'clock  one  Saturday 
morning  the  gallant  captain  of  company  A  might 
have  been  seen  bracing  his  brawny  shoulders  res 
olutely  against  his  tent  poles,  with  a  brief  shirt-tail 
flapping  furiously  in  the  breeze,  and  yelling  lustily 
for  a  somnolent  Ethiope  to  come  to  the  rescue.. 
The  captain  was  in  a  quandary,  the  cold  rain  was 
beating  in  upon  him,  and  if  he  let  go  of  the  pole, 
his  tent  would  be  carried  off  bodily  ;  if  he  held  on 
to  it,  he  could  not  get  to  kill  the  negro.  The  cap 
tain  was  the  prey  for  some  moments  of  conflicting 
passions  —  solicitude  for  his  quarters,  and  rage  at 
the  profound  slumber  of  his  contraband  —  but  was 
finally  relieved,  and  escaped  with  an  involuntary 
shower-bath. 

The  greatest  solicitude  was  felt  for  the  safety  of 
the  great  fleet.  It  was  known  that  many  of  the 
vessels  were  not  sea-worthy,  and,  heavily  laden 
as  they  were,  if  the  gale  was  as  severe  on  the 
coast  as  it  was  with  us,  it  was  scarcely  possible 


224  THE    LATE    WAR. 

they  could  have  escaped  without  serious  disaster. 
Troops  continued  to  pass  through  almost  daily,  it 
was  said,  to  Annapolis.  The  number  in  and  about 
Baltimore  continued  at  about  the  same  figures,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  10,000.  The  Fourth  Michi 
gan  Regiment  remained  at  McKim's  Wood,  the 
Tenth  Maine  at  Patterson's  Park,  and  the  Duryea 
Zouaves  at  Federal  Hill.  The  Zoo-Zoos  were 
brilliant  with  new  red  breeches  of  increased  capac 
ity  in  the  rear,  and  had  lost  none  of  their  accus 
tomed  sauciness  of  swagger. 

The  harbor  was  crowded  with  vessels  which 
should  be  plying  between  Baltimore  and  Washing 
ton.  I  was  becoming  more  and  more  enamored 
of  the  distinguished  foresight  and  vigor  with  which 
the  war  was  prosecuted.  We  were  scientific — in 
tensely  so.  We  had  balloons,  and  all  the  latest 
improvements  in  rifled  arms — companies  of  sharp 
shooters,  carrying  forty  pound  telescopic  rifles, 
with  which  a  man  might  be  "  corpsed  "  at  a  greater 
distance  than  he  could  be  distinguished  with  the 
naked  eye — rocket  batteries  and  Sawyer  guns,  to 
amuse  scientific  generals  with  interesting  sport 
•"  at  the  Rip-Raps,"  while  the  Potomac  was  block 
aded,  and  the  food  for  our  grand  army  was  trans 
ported  in  wagons.  That  was  a  good  joke  on 
.science. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  225 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EARLY  in  November  a  portion  of  the  Twenty- 
first  succeeded  in  getting  away  from  Baltimore, 
and  into  a  region  where  there  was  at  least  a  pros 
pect  of  a  fight.  For  several  days  it  had  been 
noised  around  the  camp  that  an  expedition  of 
some  sort  was  on  foot,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
1 2th  we  marched  from  our  encampment,  five  hun 
dred  strong,  down  to  one  of  the  Canton  wharves, 
to  await  the  movements  of  the  steamer  which  was 
to  carry  us  off.  About  half-past  4  P.  M.,  the  Star 
came  along,  and  we  went  aboard.  Presently  the 
Pocahontas  came  up  with  five  hundred  Zouaves  on 
board,  from  Federal  Hill,  and  in  company  we 
steamed  off  for  the  Bay,  the  Pocahontas  in  the 
lead.  On  board  the  Star  we  passed  a  very  uncom 
fortable  night.  The  boat  was  very  much  crowded, 
and  without  accommodations  of  any  kind  for  offi 
cer  or  private.  It  was  really  distressing  to  see  the 
frantic  efforts  of  the  poor  fellows,  who  were  tired 
out  with  the  preparations  for  the  march,  to  get  a 
little  sleep.  Some  of  them  coiled  up  in  the  most 
ridiculous  positions  imaginable.  As  for  myself,  I 
was  walked  over  some  three  or  four  hundred  times r 
and  my  ribs  were  sore  from  frequent  punches  from 
the  feet  of  unconscious  sleepers — said  feet  being 
spasmodically  shot  out  at  intervals,  in  an  involun- 

15 


226  THE    LATE    WAR. 

tary  effort  of  the  tired  muscles  to  secure  a  little 
respite  from  their  unnatural  tension. 

About  daylight  we  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Po 
tomac.  After  having  passed  the  light-house  on 
Watts  Island,  and  when  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Tangier  Sound,  the  Pocahontas  ran  aground,  hard 
and  fast. 

We  spent  several  hours  in  fruitless  endeavors  to 
haul  her  oft',  and  then  steamed  away  for  Pocomoke 
Sound,  leaving  the  red  breeches  rueful  and  dis 
consolate.  But  we  had  spent  too  much  time  with 
the  Pocahontas.  The  tide  was  out,  and  when  near 
the  mouth  of  Pocomoke  river  the  Star  grounded 
on  the  mud  bar,  where  we  were  compelled  to  lie 
until  high  tide.  We  would  have  been  in  a  very 
critical  position  provided  the  enemy  had  had  any 
artillery  in  the  neighborhood.  For  nine  hours  we 
lay  perfectly  helpless,  within  point-blank  range  of 
a  portion  of  the  sacred  soil, with  the  rebels  reported 
in  force  within  a  short  distance.  Fortunately  we 
were  not  molested,  and  a  little  after  9  o'clock, 
crossed  the  bar  and  entered  the  mouth  of  the  Poco 
moke,  where  there  was  plenty  of  water  for  the 
largest  vessels. 

The  Pocomoke  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 
No  description  could  do  justice  to  its  beauties.  It 
is  a  narrow,  crooked  stream — not  wider  than  a 
creek — with  low,  marshy  banks,  and  water  as 
black  as  ink.  There  was  apparently  no  current  in 
it,  except  that  caused  by  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the 
tide.  There  was  some  dry  land  between  the 
mouth  and  Newtown,  a  distance  of  twenty  miles, 


THE    LATE    WAR.  227 

but  the  most  of  the  country  immediately  adjacent 
to  the  river  was  cypress  swamp.  The  person  who 
has  never  seen  a  cypress  swamp  has  one  nameless 
horror  yet  to  experience.  The  dismal  cypress 
trees,  festooned  with  poisonous  vines — the  queer- 
looking  cypress  "knees"  shooting  up  in  myriads 
around  the  roots  of  the  trees  ;  the  filthy  marsh, 
""  where  the  serpent  feeds,"  and  the  stagnant  water, 
with  its  load  of  miasma — formed  a  picture  not  easily 
forgotten. 

We  had  been  led  to  expect  trouble  in  ascending 
the  Pocomoke,  as  it  was  reported  that  batteries  had 
been  built  along  its  bank,  between  the  mouth  and 
Newtown.  In  expectation  of  being  fired  upon,  Col 
onel  McMillan  formed  his  men  on  the  upper  and 
lower,  decks  of  the  boat,  in  the  best  manner  possi 
ble,  and  we  cautiously  steamed  up.  One  after  an 
other  we  passed  the  points  at  which  the  batteries 
had  been  appointed,  without  interruption,  and 
reached  Newtown  in  due  season.  We  ran  up  to  a 
little  dirty  wharf,  alongside  of  which  a  few  shabby 
lumber  schooners  were  moored.  The  banks  were 
lined  with  a  crowd  of  negroes  of  all  sizes,  ages 
and  sexes,  whose  staring  eyes  were  almost  pop 
ping  out  of  their  heads  with  amazement,  and  their 
teeth  chattering  with  terror.  The  boat  having  been 
moored,  the  vanguard  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the 
Potomac  marched  ashore,  and  bivouacked  in  an 
open  lot,  close  to  a  little  snufF-colored  Catholic 
church,  with  a  funny  cupola  and  steeple,  and  a 
graveyard  in  the  rear.  With  exception  of  the  ne 
groes,  and  an  occasional  glimpse  of  a  pair  of  bright 


225  THE    LATE   WAR. 

eyes,  and  part  of  a  figure  all  in  white  peeping  out 
from  behind  the  window  curtains,  we  saw  no  signs 
of  life  about  Newtown  at  that  time.  It  was  a  little 
place,  of  about  800  inhabitants.  They  called  it 
Newtown  because  it  was  so  old.  The  population 
seemed  to  be  mainly  composed  of  colored  people 
and  women — the  presumption  being  that  most  of 
the  men  are  skulking  in  the  woods,  or  in  the  rebel 
army. 

The  day  after  we  arrived  there,  Colonel  Payne's 
Wisconsin  regiment  came  down  from  Snow  Hill, 
and  encamped  alongside  of  us.  Our  Zouave  friends 
also  came  in  on  the  Star.  Nem's  battery  of  Massa- 
chusets  flying  artillery,  Captain  Richard's  Penn 
sylvania  dragoons,  and  a  detachment  of  Delaware 
men,  also  came  in. 

General  Lockwood  was  in  command  of  the 
troops.  He  was  a  Delaware  man,  of  whom  I 
knew  nothing.  His  force  was  about  3,500,  inc"lud- 
ing  the  troops  I  have  mentioned.  The  Purnell 
Legion  of  Maryland  troops  encamped  over  the 
river  near  there,  with  some  Eastern  Shore  men, 
whose  position  or  strength  I  was  unable  to  ascer 
tain. 

It  rained  constantly  all  night,  and  as  we  were 
encamped  on  low  ground  and  not  particularly  well 
provided  for,  it  may  be  imagined  that  our  position 
was  not  a  pleasant  one,  but  I  never  saw  any  troops 
more  eager  for  a  fight  than  those  of  the  Twenty- 
first.  We  were  commanded  by  Colonel  McMillan 
in  person,  who  proved  himself  a  thorough  officer, 
and  fully  equal  to  any  position  in  which  he  might  be 


THE    LATE    WAR.  229 

placed.  Our  excellent  adjutant,  Mat.  Latham,  was 
also  with  us.  On  the  map  is  a  narrow  peninsula, 
about  ninty  miles  in  length,  lying  between  the  bay 
and  the  ocean,  which  was  geographically  a  part  of 
Maryland,  but  had  always  belonged  to  Virginia. 
Of  this  peninsula  was  formed  the  two  counties  of 
Accomac  and  Northampton.  It  was  reported  that 
General  Magmder  had  entrenched  himself  in  Ac 
comac  county, with  4,000  or  5,000  men,  a  short  dis 
tance  from  us,  and  our  expedition  was  to  "clean 
out"  the  two  Virginia  counties  entirely.  Every 
thing  indicated  that  an  engagement  was  expected, 
and  probably  a  bloody  one  ;  for  myself  I  did  not 
anticipate  any  fight.  And  when  the  magnificent 
bubble  of  the  peninsula  war  was  pricked,  very  little 
survived  the  collapse.  We  came  out  from  Balti 
more  prepared  for  a  vigorous  and  effective  cam 
paign, with  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery,  ambulances, 
surgeons  and  lint.  The  most  exaggerated  stories 
of  the  force  and  formidable  preparations  of  the 
rebels  were  circulated,  and  many  thought  it  possi 
ble  that  there  might  be  a  fight,  in  view  of  the  ex 
tensive  preparations  made. 

The  entire  force  under  the  command  of  Gen. 
Lockwood,  amounted  to  near  five  thousand  men. 
That  of  the  enemy,  as  near  as  it  could  be  ascer 
tained,  was  about  seven  hundred  !  When  our  boys 
learned  that  all  this  preparation  was  made  to  at 
tack  seven  hundred  undisciplined  men,  armed  with 
shot-guns  and  squirrel  rifles,  their  rage  and  disgust 
was  unutterable.  All  we  did  was  to  devour  our 
chagrin  and  leave  Newtown.  We  took  up  our  line 


230  THE    LATE    WAR. 

of  march  southward.  The  troops  that  left  New 
town,  were  nine  hundred  Wisconsin,  five  hundred 
Zouaves,  five  hundred  Michigan,  and  five  hundred 
Twenty-first  Indiana,  together  with  Nim's  Flying- 
Artillery  and  Capt.  Richards'  Pennsylvania  cav 
alry,  each  one  hundred  and  fifty  strong.  We 
crossed  the  Maryland  line  about  six  miles  from 
Newtown,  and  for  the  first  time  set  foot  on  the 
sacred  soil  of  Virginia.  It  was  the  first  time  our 
men  had  had  an  opportunity  of  trying  the  realities- 
of  a  march,  and  the  most  of  them  thought  there 
was  no  fun  in  trudging  along  a  muddy  road,  with 
a  forty  pound  knapsack  slung  over  the  shoulder, 
nothing  to  eat  but  sheet-iron  crackers  and  raw  ba 
con,  with  a  handful  of  persimmons  for  dessert. 
After  several  miles  in  Virginia,  we  came  upon 
rebel  "sign"  in  the  shape  of  large  numbers  of 
trees  cut  across  the  road.  In  the  innocence  of 
their  hearts  they  supposed  we  would  turn  back 
when  we  came  to  this  fallen  timber  ;  but  not  a  bit 
of  it !  A  few  miles  further  on  we  arrived  at  the 
rebel  fort — a  rude  breastwork,  forming  a  half-cir 
cle,  with  a  deep  ditch  around  it,  and  embrasures 
for  mounting  three  or  four  guns.  It  was  so  poorly 
constructed,  that  even  if  properly  manned,  it  would 
have  been  worse  than  useless.  There  was  not 
room  in  the  embrasures  to  work  the  guns,  and 
nothing  to  prevent  its  being  stormed  in  the  rear. 
The  rebels  had  evacuated,  and  had  left  in  hot 
haste  for  the  South. 

We  passed  this  fort,  which  our  adjutant  chris- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  231 

tened  the  "Rebel's  Folly,"  and  came  on  to  Oak 
Hill,  two  or  three  miles  further,  and  encamped. 

Our  commissariat  had  been  very  poorly  pro 
vided.  We  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  leaving 
Baltimore  but  bacon  and  hard  bread ;  and  the 
worst  feature  was,  there  was  not  enough  of  that. 
Our  colonel  made  most  vigorous  efforts  to  keep 
the  men  from  stealing  ;  but  it  could  not  be  ex 
pected  that  soldiers  would  starve,  or  even  go  very 
hungry  in  the  enemy's  country,  and  the  tents  had 
scarcely  been  pitched  an  hour  before  chickens 
were  squawking  and  pigs  squealing  in  every  direc 
tion.  There  was  miserable  mismanagement  some 
where.  Capt.  Richards'  cavalry  had  had  no  tents 
since  leaving  Baltimore,  and  nothing  whatever  to 
eat  except  a  little  hard  bread  they  had  brought  in 
their  haversacks.  The  country  was  much  better 
than  I  expected  to  see,  taking  Newtown  as  a  spec 
imen.  It  was  a  pine  country,  with  light,  sandy 
soil,  which  produced  tolerably  fair  wheat  and 
corn,  with  the  aid  of  guano.  The  persimmon 
grew  exuberantly ;  and,  as  a  consequence,  the 
oppossum  flourished  and  waxed  fat.  Everything 
that  came  into  camp  was  "possum,"  but  I  never 
before  knew  the  animal  wore  feathers  and  hoofs  ! 

The  negro  also  abounded  to  a  considerable  ex 
tent.  Their  ivories  glistened  on  every  side,  and 
their  broad,  greasy  faces  were  radiant  with  good- 
humored  smiles.  Indeed,  they  were  much  more 
pleased  to  see  us  than  were  the  white  inhabitants. 
The  latter  were  a  slow  set.  A  newspaper  never 
found  its  way  there,  unless  by  accident,  and  the 


232  THE    LATE    WAR. 

people  were  almost  wholly  ignorant  of  what  trans 
pired  in  the  outside  world.  I  found  few  who  had 
heard  of  the  sailing  of  the  great  fleet,  and  some 
who  had  just  heard  of  Bull  Run.  They  were  not 
at  all  curious.  They  asked  no  questions.  They 
knew  nothing  and  did  not  want  to  know  anything. 
Such  of  them  as  pretended  to  know  what  was 
going  on,  had  heard  only  the  secession  version  of 
the  various  incidents  of  the  war. 

Their  country  had  made  enough  bread  and  meat 
to  live  on,  but  there  was  no  money  there,  and  no 
commerce  of  any  kind.  The  people  had  been  so 
situated  they  could  get  nothing  from  either  the 
North  or  South.  The  only  port  of  entry  on  the 
peninsula  had  been  abolished,  and  the  Confeder 
ates  had  established  none. 

We  found  an  old  32-pounder  of  French  or  Span 
ish  manufacture  there,  said  to  have  been  dug  up  in 
one  of  the  marshes  on  the  sea  coast.  They  need 
not  have  gone  to  the  trouble  of  spiking  it,  as  it 
was  so  eaten  with  rust  as  to  be  worthless. 

A  horrible  accident  occurred  in  the  Sixth  Michi 
gan  encampment.  A  soldier,  carelessly  handling 
a  gun,  discharged  it  and  blew  off  a  comrade's 
head. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  Twenty-first  and  the  Zouaves  reached  East- 
ville,  Northampton  county,  Virginia,  on  the  23d  of 
November,  having  marched  through  the  entire 
peninsula  without  so  much  as  seeing  even  the  tail 


THE    LATE    WAR.  233 

of  a  foe  in  arms.  We  saw  plenty  of  "sign"  in  the 
shape  of  rudely-constructed  breastworks,  fallen 
timber,  cut  across  the  roads  to  embarrass  our 
march,  and  the  sites  of  rebel  encampments,  aban 
doned  in  hot  haste  ;  but  the  expedition  was  per 
fectly  barren  of  actual  fighting,  and  its  only  tro 
phies  were  eight  or  ten  field  pieces,  well  mounted, 
and  several  hundred  assorted  muskets — flint  locks, 
percussion  locks,  and  without  locks — knapsacks, 
cartridge  boxes,  and  outlandish  old  sabers. 

Adjutant  Latham, with  a  squad  of  Richards'  cav 
alry,  were  quite  successful  in  hunting  up  secreted 
arms,  besides  they  made  several  important  arrests 
— among  others,  those  of  Colonel  and  Captain 
West  and  Lieutenant  Bull.  Colonel  West  was  the 
commander-in-chief  of  the  rebel  militia  in  the  coun 
ties  of  Accomac  and  Northampton,  while  the  regu 
lar  confederates  were  commanded  by  General 
Charley  Smith,  a  young  man  about  twenty-three 
of  age,  and  a  relative  of  "  Extra  Billy." 

The  rebels  had  all  dispersed  or  escaped  from  the 
country.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  the  number  of 
good  Union  men.  Nearly  everybody  was  for  the 
Union — just  then — and  those  who  could  not  deny 
having  been  in  the  rebel  ranks,  were  "pressed" 
into  the  service.  It  was  a  little  singular  how,  with 
so  many  Union  men  in  the  peninsula,  they  could 
have  allowed  themselves  to  be  forced  into  a  service 
repugnant  to  them  ;  but,  perhaps,  it  was  one  of  the 
anomalies  of  war. 

Eastville  was  a  town  of  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  inhabitants — four  miles  from  any  steamboat 


234  THE    LATE    WAR. 

landing,  and  eight  miles  from  Cherry-Stone  wharf,, 
the  old  Norfolk  Jooat  landing.  It  was  only  forty 
miles  from  there  to  Norfolk.  The  peninsula  is- 
very  narrow  there,  and  one  could  go  but  a  short 
distance  from  the  town  on  either  side,  without  en 
countering  some  of  the  numerous  inlets  from  the 
bay  or  sea.  The  finest  oysters  were  found  on  both 
the  bay  and  seaside.  The  country  about  there  pre 
sented  the  same  appearance  as  at  all  other  points 
along  the  road — flat  and  level,  with  light,  sandy 
soil,  and  forests  of  pine,  with  oak  and  holly  inter 
mixed.  About  our  encampment,  which  was  in  a 
thick  pine  wood,  northwest  of  the  town,  I  found 
thin  specimens  of  the  Spanish  moss  hanging  from 
some  of  the  trees,  and  several  specimens  of  a  var 
iety  of  the  magnolia — indications  of  a  southern 
latitude. 

In  the  clerk's  office  at  Eastville,  I  found  judicial 
records  showing  a  county  organization  as  far  back 
as  1632.  This  is  the  country  where  they  ordered 
a  witch  to  be  publicly  ducked  three  times  in  fifteen 
minutes. 

Nothing  particularly  exciting  occurred  on  the 
march  from  Oak  Hill  to  this  place.  The  men  had 
given  up  all  hopes  of  a  fight,  and  after  having,  to- 
some  extent,  recovered  from  their  rage  at  being  so* 
completely  fooled — their  exasperation  in  some  in 
stances  amounting  to  that  highest  degree  of  indigo- 
nation  known  as  "bull  mad" — turned  their  atten 
tion  to  extracting  as  much  fun  from  the  incidents; 
of  their  wearisome  march  as  was  practicable.. 
They  took  particular  delight  in  devilling  the  dar- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  235 

kies  along  the  route.  These  persons  appeared  to 
be  as  well  posted  as  their  masters,  with  regard  to 
our  coming,  and  were  very  much  crest-fallen  when 
they  found  we  did  not  set  them  free,  as  they  had 
been  led  to  expect.  Some  of  them  had  their  bun 
dles  ready  packed,  expecting  to  be  taken  along. 
Atone  place,  while  coming  through  a  wood  this 
side  of  Drummond  Town,  the  column  was  startled 
by  the  sudden  apparition  of  an  old  white-headed 
negress  by  the  road-side,  throwing  up  her  hands,, 
and  thanking  God  vehemently  that  we  had  come 
at  last.  She  said  she  had  prayed  for  our  coming 
long,  and  her  prayers  were  at  length  answered. 
The  boys  gave  a  deafening  cheer,  and  marched 
on,  leaving  the  poor  creature  mystified  and  forlorn. 

At  Modest  Town  and  Whitestown  we  found  small 
editions  of  the  American  flag,  which  were  greeted 
with  hearty  cheers.  These  flags  had  only  been  dis 
played  the  morning  we  came  along,  and  probably 
were  run  up  to  save  their  property  from  the  pillage, 
which  the  ignorant  inhabitants  had  been  taught  to 
expect.  At  Whitestown  we  found  a  supply  of  to 
bacco,  the  scarcity  of  which  had  been  the  cause  of 
much  distress.  The  entire  stock  of  the  shopkeeper 
was  purchased  by  those  who  had  money  and  divided 
among  their  comrades,  the  boys  declaring  that 
their  knapsacks  felt  much  lighter,  and  the  blisters 
on  their  feet  did  not  hurt  half  so  badly  with  a  quid 
of  the  weed  between  their  jaws. 

They  classified  farmers  among  the  poorer  classes 
of  the  peninsula  according  to  the  number  of  horses 
they  worked.  There  was  the  one-horse  farmer.. 


236  THE    LATE    WAR. 

the  two  and  the  three-horse  farmer,  and  a  man 
who  worked  five  horses  was  a  "right-smart"  far 
mer.  They  planted  their  corn — one  stalk  in  the 
hill — and  it  grew  close  to  the  ground,  with  one  ear 
to  the  stalk.  They  knew  nothing  about  acres,  but 
any  one  could  tell  you  how  many  thousand  hills  of 
corn  he  had  raised. 

The  oxen  of  the  peninsula  were  miserably  small 
and  mean  looking.  They  worked  them  singly  in 
shafts,  the  load  being  pushed  along  by  the  head. 
One  of  them,  if  properly  fattened,  might  make  a 
meal  for  a  hungry  Hoosier,  but  I  would  not  give  a 
"claco"  for  the  fragments. 

We  left  Oak  Hill  in  the  evening  and  marched 
some  six  or  eight  miles  before  camping.  The 
Zouaves  were  in  the  lead,  and  having  marched  in 
pretty  quick  time,  they  took  up  an  idea  they  were 
"putting  the  Hoosiers  through" — an  idea  that 
seemed  to  tickle  them  amazingly.  The  next  day, 
however,  we  were  in  the  lead,  and  concluded  to 
give  our  red  brethren  a  taste  of  Hoosier  traveling. 
We  marched  fifteen  miles  in  five  hours,  through 
sand  shoe-mouth  deep,  and  stopped  for  dinner  a 
short  distance  this  side  of  Drummond  Town.  The 
Zouaves  were  strung  along  the  road  for  two  miles 
back,  and  came  straggling  in,  crestfallen  and  dis 
gusted,  for  half  an  hour  after.  On  the  afternoon's 
march  their  surgeon  rode  up  and  begged  Col.  Mc 
Millan  for  God's  sake  to  halt ;  saying  that  his  men 
could  not  possibly  stand  it. 

The  peninsula,  cut  oft'  from  commerce  in  a 
great  measure,  with  both  the  North  and  South, 


THE    LATE    WAR.  237 

had  suffered  for  many  articles  of  domestic  com 
fort.  Sugar,  coffee,  stationery,  and  even  the  nec 
essaries  of  peninsular  life — rum  and  tobacco — were 
remarkably  scarce,  the  two  latter  being  parted 
with  reluctantly  at  exorbitant  prices. 

No  want  was  more  seriously  felt  by  our  little 
army  than  that  of  a  regular  communication  with 
the  outside  world.  We  saw  nothing  and  heard 
nothing  except  at  rare  intervals.  One  day,  by  a 
singular  streak  of  good  luck,  I  got  hold  of  a  Phil 
adelphia  paper  only  five  days  old.  What  a  scram 
ble  then  ensued  for  the  second,  third,  and  as  high 
as  the  fortieth  reading.  Our  little  expedition  was 
made  to  cut  a  big  figure  in  the  papers.  We  could 
appreciate  the  story  of  three  hundred  rebels  laying 
down  their  arms  at  Drummond  Town,  when  we 
knew  that  we  had  not  seen  an  armed  rebel  on  our 
march,  and  that  at  no  time  had  there  been  more 
than  a  thousand  militia  in  all,  in  the  two  counties. 

One  could  not  but  admire  the  sublime  audacity 
of  those  peninsular  rebels.  One  clay  one  of  them 
came  to  our  colonel  with  the  modest  request  for  a 
squad  of  men  to  assist  him  in  reclaiming  a  couple 
of  dusky  chattels  who  had  taken  to  the  bush  on 
the  approach  of  our  troops.  In  order  to  under 
stand  the  sublimity  of  his  impudence,  it  is  neces 
sary  to  state  that  these  same  chattels  we  were  ex 
pected  to  hunt  up  were  engaged  in  working  upon 
one  of  those  unique  fortifications  at  Pongateague, 
and  in  felling  timber  across  the  roads.  It  is  matter 
of  history,  that  the  petitioner  left  with  a  tickling  in 
his  ear,  having  received  a  piece  of  the  colonel's 


238  THE    LATE    WAR. 

mind,  involving  a  pretty  plain  statement  of  the 
case,  embellished  with  some  expressions  more  en 
ergetic  than  polite. 

The  hearts  of  the  hungry  Twenty-first  were 
gladdened  by  the  arrival  of  a  provision  train  from 
Pongateague.  It  did  not  reach  us  any  too  soon, 
as  we  had  been  for  some  days  living  on  sweet  po 
tatoes,  and  tea  made  of  sassafras,  dittany,  spice- 
wood,  and  such  other  fragrant  roots  and  herbs  as 
we  could  gather  in  the  woods.  The  sweet  po 
tato  was  an  -excellent  thing  to  have.  The  boys 
liked  them,  and  for  sixty  or  seventy  consecutive 
meals  they  made  a  good  substitute  for  bread  ;  but 
when  it  got  to  be  a  regular  thing,  there  were  some 
unreasonable  enough  to  growl.  Those  esculent, 
but  rather  flatulent  tubers  grew  in  the  greatest 
abundance  on  the  peninsula,  and  attained  enor 
mous  size.  They  were  cheap,  too,  retailing  at 
twenty-five  cents  a  bushel. 

The  utmost  carelessness  characterized  the  man 
agement  of  our  expedition  from  the  first.  We  left 
Newtown  on  very  short  allowance  of  provisions — 
crackers  and  bacon,  and  no  coffee.  Our  progress 
through  the  country  was  slow  enough  to  give  the 
rebels  ample  time  to  secrete  their  arms  and  escape 
— so  that  we  captured  comparatively  few  muni 
tions,  and  still  fewer  prisoners.  Then  the  supply 
steamer  was  sent  to  Pongateague  Inlet,  th  rty-five 
miles  from  where  we  encamped,  and  our  food  had 
to  be  hauled  from  there  in  wagons,  when  it  might 
have  been  landed  at  Cherrystone,  twenty-seven 
miles  nearer.  To  add  to  the  catalogue  of  blun- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  239 

ders,  we  were  for  days  without  soap,  and  the  men 
were  alive  with  vermin.  A  man  may  think  he 
knows  all  about  the  hardships  of  a  soldier's  life, 
but  he  can  have  no  conception  of  it  until  he  be 
comes  food  for  smaller  insects  than  himself.  The 
.sickening  disgust  which  creeps  over  a  man  who 
has  been  raised  a  gentleman,  causes  him  to  loathe 
himself  and  his  fellow  man.  Luckily,  soap  came 
at  last,  and  an  energetic  boiling  and  scrubbing 
was  soon  put  in  progress. 

In  speaking  of  these  matters  I  must  exonerate 
•our  regimental  officers  from  blame.  They  did  all 
that  was  in  their  power  to  render  us  comfortable. 
"The  king  of  France,  with  forty  thousand  men, 
marched  up  the  hill  and  then  marched  down 
again  !  "  I  am  not  sure  it  was  the  king  of  France, 
or  being  the  king  of  France,  zuhich  king  it  was  ! 
But,  at  any  rate,  the  somewhat  notable  manoeuvre 
hinted  at  in  the  lines  quoted,  were  cleverly  imitated 
t>y  the  performances  of  General  Henry  H.  Lock- 
wood.  Our  expedition  was  perfectly  fruitless,  so 
far  as  we  could  see,  with  the  exception  of  having 
been  instrumental  in  scattering,  temporarily,  those 
terrible  seven  hundred  rebels,  with  their  aforesaid 
dilapidated  muskets  and  shot-guns,  and  suspend 
ing  for  a  time  the  completion  of  those  wonderful 
batteries  we  passed  at  various  points  on  the  route. 
Another  good  accomplished,  possibly,  was  the  scat 
tering  of  a  little  money  among  the  scaly  rebels  of 
the  region,  of  which,  God  knows,  they  were  sadly 
in  need. 

Just  before  leaving  for  Baltimore,  the  camp  of 


240  THE    LATE    WAR. 

the  Twenty-first  Indiana  was  thrown  into  a  state  of 
terrible  excitement  by  a  report  that  quite  a  number 
of  men  belonging  to  Captain  Richard  Campbell's 
company,  from  Clay  county,  had  been  poisoned. 
One  of  the  "  messes"  of  Capt.  C's  company  pur 
chased  a  "pone"  of  corn  bread  from  some  one  of 
the  negro  hucksters  who  thronged  the  camp  with 
pies,  cakes,  chickens,  and  other  articles  of  country 
produce  for  sale.  They  ate  a  small  portion  of  the 
bread,  but  being  called  out  for  dress  parade,  the 
remainder  of  the  loaf  was  laid  aside  for  future  ref 
erence.  While  on  parade  two  of  them  were  taken 
sick,  and  immediately  after,  several  others,  with 
nausea  and  cramps  in  the  stomach.  All  who  ate 
of  the  bread,  seven  in  number,  were  similarly  af 
fected.  Emetics  were  promptly  administered,  and 
they  were  soon  out  of  danger. 

It  did  not  seem  that  any  mineral  or  other  active 
poison  was  in  the  bread,  but  certainly  something 
got  into  it,  whether  by  design  or  accident,  that 
made  the  boys  sick  for  a  time. 

Quite  a  ludicrous  scene  transpired  in  the  camp 
of  the  Michigan  Sixth  at  this  time,  in  which  our 
brigadier  general  played  a  prominent  part.  The 
general  was  treating  himself  to  an  airing  in  his 
carriage,  when  he  met  a  soldier  on  the  road  with  a 
decapitated  turkey  in  his  hand.  The  general 
stopped  him,  inquired  where  he  belonged,  and  was 
particularly  anxious  to  know  all  about  the  turkey. 
The  soldier  told  him  he  had  purchased  it,  and  the 
general  drove  off  apparently  satisfied;  but  the 
turkey  lay  heavily  on  his  mind.  He  could  not  im- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  24! 

agine  how  a  private  could  honestly  possess  a  tur 
key  ;  and  if  a  soldier  could  so  far  forget  himself  as 
to  "purvey"  a  fowl  of  such  magnificent  dimen 
sions,  especially  while  being  furnished  by  the  gov 
ernment  with  so  rich  a  diet  as  sweet  potatoes,  he 
ought  to  be  made  an  example  of.  So  the  general 
drove  to  the  camp  of  the  Michigan  boys,  having  in 
the  meantime  worked  himself  up  into  a  furious 
rage,  swearing  that  if  found,  the  soldier  should  be' 
shot,  and  ordered  an  investigation.  The  com 
panies  were  all  paraded,  and  the  search  began, 
the  general  making  the  rounds  with  the  company 
officers.  The  Michigan  boys  were  stupefied  with 
astonishment  at  first,  but  finally  the  general  was 
startled  by  the  gobbling  of  a  turkey  in  his  rear. 
He  turned  his  head  to  look  for  the  offender,  when 
another  clever  imitation  of  a  turkey-cock  was 
heard  in  front,  and  then  a  perfect  storm  of  turkey 
calls,  cock-adoodle-doos,  the  hissing  of  geese,  and 
other  specimen  of  barn-yard  vocalism,  broke  out 
all  over  the  camp.  The  general  beat  a  retreat, 
and  on  going  out  the  gate,  found  a  pole  erected,  on 
which  was  conspicuously  placed  fifteen  or  twenty 
turkey,  chicken  and  gee'se  heads. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EARLY  in  December,  the  Twenty-first  Indiana  re 
turned  from  the  Eastern  Shore  expedition  to  Balti 
more,  having  passed  through   the  many  dangers 
and  vicissitudes  of  that  bloodless  campaign  without 
16 


242  THE    LATE    WAR. 

the  loss  of  a  single  man  !  We  marched  sixteen 
miles  on  the  Pongateague  road,  then  encamped  in 
a  pine  wood  with  our  brethren  of  the  gay  and  vol 
uminous  trowsers — otherwise  known  as  Zouaves. 
Fuel  was  plenty,  and  by  scraping  together  the 
fallen  leaves,  we  made  beds,  which  for  convenience 
were  as  good  as  any  feathers  that  ever  grew  on  a 
grey  goose's  back.  A  slight  fall  of  snow  covered 
the  ground  in  the  morning,  giving  things  a  winter- 
ish  appearance.  After  breakfast  on  the  impossi 
ble  cracker  and  the  inevitable  hog,  we  struck  tents 
once  more,  resumed  our  march  for  eight  or  ten 
miles,  when  we  reached  Pongateague  inlet.  There 
the  "Star"  was  waiting,  but  having  tasted  her  com 
forts  on  the  march  out, we  magnanimously  allowed 
our  Zouave  brethren  to  march  aboard,  and  con 
cluded  to  wait  for  the  next  steamer.  After  two 
long  and  dreary  days,  we  boarded  the  "Wilson 
Small,"  where  soon  the  disgusting  fact  became 
apparent  that  the  accommodations  of  the  "  Small  " 
were  worse  than  those  of  the  "Star."  I  know 
nothing  from  actual  experience  of  the  "horrors  of 
the  middle  passage,"  but  I  shall  never  forget  the 
long  agony  of  the  voyage  from  Pongateague  on 
the  "Wilson  Small."  There  was  nothing  to  eat, 
and  neither  room  to  lie  down  nor  stand  up,  with 
tobacco  ejections  an  inch  and  a  half  deep  all  over 
the  decks.  To  add  to  the  comforts  of  the  trip, 
about  one-third  of  the  boys  got  sea-sick,  and  were 
"heaving"  right  and  left,  without  so  much  as 
taking  time  to  cry  "stand  from  under." 

Gen.  Lockwood  and  staff,  whether  deservedly 


THE    LATE    WAR.  243 

or  not,  were  very  unpopular  with  the  troops.  The 
general's  personal  appearance  was  not  prepossess 
ing.  He  stuttered,  wore  spectacles,  and  looked 
like  a  cross  between  a  Presbyterian  minister  and  a 
Jewish  pawnbroker.  He  was  prolific  in  the  mat 
ter  of  general  orders,  and  his  "policy"  appeared 
to  have  been  shaped  almost  exclusively  for  the 
protection  of  the  rebels.  Horses,  known  to  have 
been  employed  in  the  rebel  cavalry,  were  released, 
after  being  seized,  on  the  quibble  that  they  did  not 
belong  to  the  Confederate  Government,  but  were 
merely  hired  at  so  much  a  day.  No  seizure  of 
arms  could  be  made  without  first  obtaining  a 
special  order  from  the  general,  by  which  time  they 
would  be  removed  to  some  new  hiding-place. 
Most  awful  punishments  impended  over  the  heads 
of  those  who,  impelled  by  hunger  or  a  longing  for 
a  change  of  diet,  dared  to  disturb  the  tranquility 
of  secession  poultry-yards,  and  it  was  reported 
that  a  private  of  the  Sixth  Michigan  was  sent  back 
to  Fort  McHenry  in  irons  for  stealing  a  turnip. 
Secession  owners,  on  whose  ground  the  troops 
camped,  were  paid  good  prices  for  fodder  and 
corn,  and  liberal  damages  for  fuel  burned.  Some 
of  them  even  asked  to  be  paid  for  the  dead  pine 
leaves  the  soldiers  used  for  bedding. 

The  winter  quarters  of  the  Twenty-first  Indiana 
were  commodious  and  comfortable.  Four  hun 
dred  were  quartered  inside  the  fort  and«six  hundred 
outside.  Notwithstanding  the  unexampled  mild 
ness  of  the  weather,  our  boys  suffered  somewhat 
for  the  want  of  comfortable  quarters,  and  it  was  a 


244  THE    LATE    WAR. 

matter  for  congratulation  when  they  were  at  last 
housed,  as  the  winter  had  begun  in  earnest.  And 
they  could  now  speak  out  their  defiance  of  cold, 
rain  and  mud,  in  the  words  of  a  song  which  was 
immensely  popular  in  the  army,  the  burden  of 
which  is  that  it  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference 
how  the  wide  world  wags,  for  they  are  firmly  re 
solved  to  be  "  gay  and  happy  still." 

A  movement  was  at  this  time  on  foot  to  equip 
the  entire  regiment  with  new  guns — the  Merrill 
breech-loading  rifle — the  soldiers  buying  the  guns 
themselves,  with  the  expectation  of  being  ulti 
mately  reimbursed  by  the  Government.  As  it 
then  stood,  we  had  in  the  regiment  two  hundred 
and  fifty  Enfield  rifles,  about  two  hundred  heavy 
Belgian  rifles,  nearly  as  good  as  the  Enfield,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  guns  were  miserable  things — 
infinitely  worse  than  the  old  altered  smooth-bore 
muskets.  Of  these  latter  we  had  two  kinds,  one  a 
clumsy-looking  affair,  with  a  stationary  sight,  and 
a  wide  and  uncertain  range  in  firing,  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  roughly  cast  in  some  country  foun 
dry  ;  and  the  other  a  long  gun  with  a  thin  barrel,  a 
calibre  one  or  two  sizes  larger  than  the  cartridge, 
a  graduating  sight,  ranging  from  fifty  to  one  thou 
sand  four  hundred  yards,  and  a  bayonet  about  a 
yard  in  length.  A  good  marksman,  if  in  luck, 
might  have  occasionally  hit  a  good-sized  barn  at 
one  hundred  yards,  provided  he  could  have  found 
one  of  the  guns  with  sufficient  strength  in  the  lock 
to  explode  the  cap.  Some  of  these  guns,  from  in 
scriptions  on  the  stocks,  we  found  belonged  to  a 


THE    LATE    WAR.  245 

regiment  which  had  a  pretty  fair  taste  of  the  Bull 
Run  fight.  Armed  with  such  weapons,  no  fault 
could  be  found  with  them  for  running  away.  The 
only  reprehensible  feature  in  it  was  that  they  did  not 
leave  their  guns  behind. 

Captain  Hess's  company  contracted  for  and  re 
ceived  the  Merrill  gun,  a  breech-loader, with  sabre 
bayonet,  and  universally  admitted  to  be  superior 
to  Sharpens,  or  any  other  breech-loading  gun. 
Simple  in  construction — not  liable  to  get  out  of  or 
der — it  could  be  fired  with  great  rapidity  an.d  ex 
traordinary  accuracy  at  a  range  of  six  hundred 
yards.  The  piece  was  also  not  so  liable  to  become 
foul  in  firing  as  muzzle-loading  rifles.  We  fired 
them  as  often  as  eighty  times  without  cleaning. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OUR  inglorious  march  to  the  peninsula  and  back 
again,  with  its  attendant  failures,  provoked  an  uni 
versal  growl  all  along  the  line.  Ordinarily,  a  man 
in  military  life  is  not  allowed  to  growl,  if  he  growls 
aloud  ;  but  even  a  court-martial  seems  preferable 
to  spontaneous  combustion. 

Prominent  among  the  subjects  provocative  of 
growls  at  that  time,  were  the  fantastic  tricks  of  that 
great  convention  of  donkeys,  our  National  Con 
gress.  What  flashing  scintillations  of  genius,  what 
precious  pearls  of  wisdom  fell  from  the  lips  of  the- 


46  THE    LATE    WAR. 

grave  and  reverend  seignors  composing  that  august 
body,  and  were  cast  by  the  oracular  telegraph  and 
the  clanking  steam-press  before  the  millions  of  les 
ser  donkeys  who  peopled  this  great  and  glorious, 
and  so  forth !  Sagacious,  provident,  far-seeing 
Congress  became  alarmed  at  the  inroads  upon  our 
venerable  Uncle's  strong  box,  and  turned  with  fe 
rocious  and  virtuous  zeal  from  the  pastime  of  inves 
tigating  the  conduct  or  misconduct  of  the  war  to 
the  work  of  retrenchment  and  reform,  and  to  the 
tightening  of  the  purse-strings.  Congress  desired 
to  economize,  and  bills  cutting  down  the  pay  of 
army  officers  were  introduced,  saving  a  miserable 
pittance,  while  scoundrel  contractors  swindled  the 
Nation  by  the  million.  Congress  cobbled  with  sut- 
tler  bills  and  chaplain  bills,  while  our  Grand  Army 
of  the  Potomac  rotted  in  foul  winter  quarters  at  a 
cost  of  hundreds  of  lives  and  millions  of  dollars 
each  day.  The  trickling  drops  of  the  spigot  were 
gathered  and  preserved,  while  the  great  stream 
flowed  steadily  from  the  bung-hole.  The  some 
what  novel  question  of  the  disposition  of  rebel 
slaves  also  received  its  share  of  attention — a  ques 
tion  peculiarly  puzzling  when  considered  in  con 
junction  with  the  fact,  that  we  had  not  then  nor 
were  likely  to  have  soon,  possession  of  any  consid 
erable  amount  of  rebel  territory  containing  slaves. 
The  scholarly  Sumner,  his  one  idea  revivified  and 
invigorated  by  the  application  of  the  French 
moxa — the  pestilent  and  bellowing  Lovejoy — the 
brawling  cobbler  of  Natick — raved  about  the  con- 

o 

fiscation  of  rebel  slaves,  between  whom  and  Fed- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  247 

eral  deliverance  bristled  long  lines  of  rebel  bay 
onets.  The  negro  !  tojour  the  negro  !  In  the  midst 
of  torrents  of  abolition  eloquence  and  floods  of 
emancipation  petitions,  Congress  frittered  away  its 
precious  time  in  idle  vaporing. 

"General  McClellan  had  the  enemy  in  a  trap," 
we  were  told.  While  we  admired  the  charming 
simplicity,  and  envied  the  delicious  self-confidence 
of  the  devout  believers  in  the  "trap"  theory, 
many  of  us  had  greater  faith  in  hard,  solid  fight 
ing,  than  in  science.  It  looked,  to  our  untutored 
minds,  very  much  like  the  "trap"  in  which  the 
lamented  John  Phoenix  caught  the  judge,  during 
the  progress  of  the  famous  Sacramento  fight,  when, 
lying  upon  his  back,  he  inserted  his  nose*  be 
tween  the  judge's  teeth  for  the  purpose  of  holding 
him  down!  Admitting  the  trap,  was  it  not  time,  in 
all  conscience,  that  our  "youthful  commander" 
should  seriously  consider  the  propriety  of  spring 
ing  it  and  bagging  his  game?  Some  of  us  whose 
buttons  were  of  the  basest  brass,  guiltless  of  gilt — 
upon  whose  shoulders  were  no  insignia  of  rank, 
and  whose  chapeaux  were  unadorned  with  golden 
bugles — whose  periodical  drafts  upon  the  treasury 
would  not  have  kept  a  contractor  in  cigars  and 
champagne  forty-eight  hours,  but  who  had  wives 
and  friends  at  home  whom  we  loved,  and  whose 
society  we  sadly  missed — who  had  no  particular 
fancy  for  military  restraint,  and  the  necessary 
brute-life  of  the  camp — were  anxious  that  the  in 
fernal  war  should  be  brought  to  a  speedy  close. 
If  the  sense  of  the  entire  army  could  have  been 


248  THE    LATE    WAR. 

taken,  its  united  voice  would  have  been  ONWARD. 
Fight  to-day,  and  if  defeated,  fight  to-morrow,  and 
the  next  day,  and  the  day  after.  If  McClellan 
was  not  ready,  he  ought  to  have  been.  The  miser 
able  mongrels  of  Mexico  fought  a  superior  race, 
and  were  defeated  on  two  successive  days,  at  Palo 
Alto  and  Resaca  de  le  Palma,  and  we  thought  it  a 
burning  shame  that  an  immense  army,  made  up  of 
the  bravest,  freest,  most  intelligent  men  in  the 
world,  fighting  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  fairest 
fabric  of  human  government  the  sun  ever  shone 
upon,  should,  six  months  after  a  defeat,  not  have 
recovered  sufficient  strength  and  confidence  to 
have  hazarded  another  battle.  Oh !  for  a  Napo 
leon  ;  but  our  Napoleon  died  when  the  brilliant 
Douglas  yielded  up  his  life  and  seemed  to  leave 
no  hero  spirit  behind  him. 

If  we  had  had  fewer  smooth-bore  muskets,  no 
balloons,  and  less  new-fangled  inventions  for  de 
stroying  our  enemies  without  exposing  ourselves, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  the  country.  Long- 
range  guns  make  long  wars.  Encourage  a  soldier 
to  believe  that  he  can  "pink"  a  rebel  at  a  thou 
sand  yards,  and  you  will  have  difficulty  to  bring 
him  close  enough  to  use  the  bayonet,  or  to  become 
inspired  with  the  genuine  battle  frenzy.  Among 
other  nostrums  of  military  quacks  was  that  of  the 
Greek  fire-shell,  experimented  with  at  Washing 
ton,  which,  fired  from  a  safe  and  convenient  dis 
tance,  was  to  explode  over  the  camp  of  the  sons  of 
Belial,  covering  them  with  a  flood  of  fire,  brim 
stone,  naphtha  and  other  combustible  ingredients. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  249 

Without  profanity,  that  might  be  termed  a  h — 11  of 
an  invention. 

While  the  war  was  thus  being  prosecuted  with  a 
most  masterly  in  activity,  unblushing  treason  stalked 
in  the  broad  light  of  day  throughout  the  West ;  in 
creased  its  power  and  extended  its  influence  day 
by  day.  Davis  remained  unhung,  and  Vallandig- 
ham  distilled  his  venom  in  the  very  halls  of  Con 
gress.  Of  all  the  traitors,  rank  and  pestilent  as 
they  were,  that  had  been  arrested  by  the  authori 
ties,  could  any  have  been  pointed  at  then  as  hav 
ing  received  punishment,  beyond  a  little  temporary 
confinement?  Treason  deliberated  in  open  con 
clave  at  Indianapolis,  and  a  strong  'and  powerful 
organization  was  at  work  to  hamper  and  embar 
rass  the  government  in  its  efforts  to  subdue  the  re 
bellion.  I  tremble  with  indignant  rage  at  the  re 
flection  that  those  men  prostituted  the  name  Demo 
crat — consecrated  by  the  wisdom  of  a  Jefferson 
and  a  Douglas — to  their  vile  purposes. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FOR  four  months  there  was  an  alternation  of 
rains,  snows,  sleets,  hails,  freezes  and  thaws.  The 
depth  of  the  mud  was  almost  incredible,  and  every 
thing  about  the  camp  wore  a  nasty,  humid  look. 
The  Providence  which  tempers  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb  brought  us  through,  however,  with  the 


250  THE    LATE    WAR. 

aid  of  such  philosophy  as  could  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  ills  of  camp  life  in  the  rainy  season. 

February  9,  Captain  Grimsley  came  in  from  the 
West  with  forty-three  fine,  healthy-looking  re 
cruits  for  the  Twenty-first,  picked  up  by  Major 
Hayes  and  Lieutenant  Elkins.  Some  few  of  them 
had  seen  service  in  the  three-months  regiments, 
and  in  Fremont's  body  guard,  but  the  most  were 
perfectly  "raw,"  and  fresh  from  the  rural  districts 
of  Indiana.  They  spent  the  day  in  looking  about, 
staring  at  the  new  and  strange  scenes  of  camp  life, 
and  listening  in  open-mouthed  wonder  to  the  whop 
ping  lies  with  which  they  were  industriously  plied 
by  their  acquaintances,  who  had  had  the  advan 
tages  of  our  seven  months'  experience  of  military 
life.  In  posting  up  the  recruits  as  to  the  duties  of 
camp  life,  and  the  rigor  with  which  any  derelic 
tion  of  duty  was  punished,  our  practical  jokers 
made  a  perfect  raw-head-and-bloody-bones  of  the 
adjutant,  gravely  telling  them  that  the  most  of  the 
men  from  our  regiment  reported  as  having  died 
were  shot  by  the  adjutant  for  failing  to  appear  on 
dress  parade  with  clean  white  gloves  and  black 
ened  boots. 

It  was  at  this  period  we  fed  ourselves  with  the 
idea  that  the  services  of  our  regiment  would  soon 
be  required  in  Kentucky.  There  was  a  rumor, 
based.on  what  foundation  no  one  could  sav,  that 
the  Government  had  concluded  that  Washington 
was  safe  enough,  and  that  a  large  body  of  the 
troops  then  eating  the  bread  of  idleness,  might 
.be  safely  withdrawn  from  the  East  and  judiciously 


THE    LATE    WAR.  251 

employed  in  the  West.  It  was  said  that  the  rail 
roads  had  been  notified  to  hold  themselves  in 
readiness  to  transport  sixty  thousand  troops  at  a 
moment's  notice. 

But  instead  of  being  ordered  to  the  West,  we 
left  our  quarters  at  Fort  Marshall,  on  the  afternoon 
of  February  19,  1862,  and  were  shipped  aboard 
the  "Georgia"  and  "Georgiana"  for  Fortress 
Monroe.  All  along  the  route,  from  our  camp  to' 
the  wharf,  we  were  greeted  with  rapturous  testi 
monials  of  good  will  by  the  citizens.  The  side 
walks  were  thronged  with  women  and  children 
wishing  us  God  speed !  and  waving  flags.  In 
this  respect  our  departure  was  in  charming  con 
trast  to  our  arrival  the  previous  July. 

We  arrived  at  the  Fortress  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  2Oth,  remained  over  night,  then  went  down  to 
Newport  News,  and  into  camp. 

The  scene  about  the  Fortress  was  peculiarly  in 
teresting.  Throngs  of  officers  and  soldiers  were 
about  the  wharf,  the  ragged  sides  of  the  "Rip 
Raps"  rose  out  of  the  water — Sewall's  Point  was 
in  the  distance — little  smoky  tugs  and  gunboats 
darted  about  the  harbor  in  the  most  frantic  man 
ner,  and  the  grim  port-holes  of  many  noble  war 
vessels  lent  additional  interest  to  the  picture.  As 
we  steamed  down  to  the  News,  a  flag  of  truce,  on 
its  way  to  Craney.Island,  crept  lazily  around  Sew 
all's  Point  and  the  stars  and  bars  of  rebellion  flut 
tered  over  secession  camps  on  the  opposite  shore. 

Newport  News  was  a  queer-looking  collection  of 
long  rows  of  barn-like  barracks,  white  tents  and 


252  THE    LATE    WAR. 

cabins  built  of  pine  logs  set  up  endwise  with  the 
bark  on,  and  the  interstices  plastered  with  blue 
mud.  The  Cumberland  and  several  other  war  ves 
sels  were  anchored  in  the  harbor. 

The  first  night  we  quartered  in  some  horse  sheds  r 
but  soon  got  into  our  own  tents.  There  were  about 
six  or  eight  thousand  troops  at  Newport  News 
then,  and  more  arriving  daily. 

Brigadier  General  Pierce,  the  hero  of  Great 
Bethel,  then  a  colonel  of  a  regiment,  was  there. 
The  22d  was  celebrated  by  a  roaring  salute  from 
the  war  vessels  in  the  harbor.  We  also  heard  guns- 
from  the  secession  camps,  but  could  not  say 
whether  they  were  firing  them  in  honor  of  Wash 
ington's  memory,  the  inauguration  of  Jeff  Davis, 
or  were  having  a  glorification  over  the  brilliant 
success  of  the  Confederate  arms  at  Fort  Donelson. 

Our  sojourn  at  the  News  was  anything  but  mo 
notonous  ;  the  weather  alone  afforded  us  infinite 
variety.  After  the  heavy  fall  of  rain  and  thor 
ough  saturation  that  immediately  succeeded  our 
arrival,  a  terrible  gale — in  fact  a  perfect  simoon — 
swept  over  the  neighborhood  for  about  eight  hours. 
The  storm  came  up  suddenly  about  n  o'clock  A. 
M.,  and  in  a  short  time  half  the  tents  were  pros 
trated,  and  overcoats,  blankets  and  miscellaneous 
articles  of  clothing  were  flying  through  the  air. 
The  "sacred  soil,"  which  there  consisted  of  a 
coarse  sand,  rose  in  clouds,  and  was  driven  in 
stinging  volleys  into  the  face  and  eyes  of  such  as 
were  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  without  shelter. 

Down  at  the  water,  the  scene,  to  one  not  accus- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  253 

tomed  to  seeing  old  ocean  on  the  rampage,  bor 
dered  on  the  sublime.  The  waves  ran  "  mountain 
high"  (small  mountains),  and  the  angry  roar  of 
the  surf  was  appalling.  Far  over  towards  the  se 
cession  side,  tossing  helplessly  on  the  turbulent 
waters,  and  flying  signals  of  distress,  two  small 
vessels  stood  in  imminent  danger  of  being  cast 
right  into  the  jaws  of  the  enemy.  Two  small, 
black-loookingtugs,  from  Fortress  Monroe,  steamed 
out  to  their  rescue,  and  brought  them  in. 

Our  camp  was  called  Butler.  In  the  interim  be 
tween  our  landing  and  the  sailing  of  the  expedi 
tion,  our  time  was  neither  idly  nor  unprofitablv 
spent.  From  ten  to  twelve  we  drilled  in  company, 
skirmish  and  bayonet  exercise  ;  from  two  till  five 
forty-five,  battalion.  The  Twenty-first  Indiana 
compared  favorably,  in  appearance  and  drill,  with 
any  of  the  regiments  there. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

EARLY  in  March,  1862,  we  left  Newport  News, 
and  after  a  weary  time,  landed  at  Ship's  Island, 
where  for  twenty-two  days  we  heard  nothing  from 
the  outside  world.  We  were  literally  famished  for 
news.  For  ought  we  knew,  the  world  might  have 
turned  topsy-turvy,  or  the  "  Dutch  taken  Holland." 
Our  only  mental  pabulum  was  the  lies  out  of  whole 
cloth  which  the  Munchausens  of  the  regiment  were 
ever  ready  to  feed  to  us. 


254  THE    LATE    WAR. 

After  our  landing  we  experienced  an  almost 
uninterrupted  succession  of  "Northers."  The 
Norther  is  an  institution  of  the  Southern  coast, 
with  which  none  need  desire  an  acquaintance. 

About  the  middle  of  April,  we  marched  out  from 
our  encampment,  leaving  our  tents  standing,  and 
embarked  on  the  "  Great  Republic."  The  Great 
Republic  was  a  large  sail  vessel,  but  not  capable  of 
accommodating  three  thousand  men.  We  thought 
we  were  crowded  on  the  Constitution,  but  on  the 
Great  Republic  there  was  not  room  to  eat,  sleep, 
walk  or  breathe.  The  lower  decks  were  badly 
ventilated,  and  between  them  the  men  were  packed 
as  closely  as  woolly  heads  on  a  slave  ship.  There 
were  no  berths  for  sleeping,  and  the  poor  devils 
were  compelled  to  lie  prone  on  the  deck,  packed 
like  hogs  in  a  rotten  straw  pile,  reeking  with  hor 
rible  filth. 

After  getting  all  ready  for  a  start,  the  Jackson — 
a  little  gun-boat,  formerly  a  New  York  ferry-boat 
— hitched  on  to  tow  us  down  to  the  Passes.  The 
rest  of  the  expedition  got  out  of  the  harbor  very 
creditably,  but  we  spent  fifteen  hours  in  frantic 
endeavors  to  turn  the  Great  Republic  about,  so 
that  she  might  go  out  respectably,  bow  on,  and 
not  like  a  crab.  There  was  a  deal  of  .screaming 
and  yelling,  and  lusty  swearing,  and  everybody 
worked  themselves  up  almost  to  the  exploding 
point  of  ill-humor  ;  but  not  an  inch  would  the  Great 
Republic  budge  in  the  right  direction.  Her  rud 
der  had  been  so  badly  injured  in  a  gale  a  few 
nights  previous  as  to  be  almost  useless,  and  the  lit- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  255 

tie  Jackson  found  she  had  got  more  than  she  bar 
gained  for  when  she  undertook  to  carry  such  a 
load.  Finally,  however,  the  stubborn  monster  was 
headed  right,  but  by  this  time  the  wind  had  shifted 
and  was  dead  ahead.  We  poked  along,  making 
about  a  knot  in  sixteen  hours.  By  sunset,  Ship 
Island — may  the  d — 1  fly  away  with  it — had  faded 
away,  and  in  the  course  of  time,  I  can  not  pretend 
to  say  how  many  days,  but  it  seemed  an  age,  we 
dropped  anchor  at  the  S.  W.  Pass, where  it  seemed 
we  were  destined  to  stay  for  the  remainder  of  the 
season. 

Our  living  on  the  Great  Republic  approached 
nearer  a  state  of  actual  starvation  than  at  any 
other  time.  We  had  a  ration  of  hard  bread,  about 
an  ounce  of  abominable  pork  or  salt  horse,  and  not 
quite  a  half  pint  of  villainous  stuff  called  coffee, 
composed  principally  of  burnt  peas,  or  some  other 
substance.  (General  Butler's  brother  was  post- 
commissary  at  Ship  Island,  and  if  he  was  not  him 
self  engaged  in  swindling,  he  was  criminally  neg 
ligent  in  allowing  others  to  rob  the  government.) 
During  the  voyage  from  Ship  Island  we  were  al 
lowed  a  pint  of  water  per  day — totally  inadequate 
to  alleviate  the  horrible  thirst  occasioned  by  the 
heat  and  salt  food.  Once  or  twice  we  had  beans 
and  rice,  but  so  miserably  cooked  that  even  the 
stomach  of  an  ostrich  would  have  rejected  the  un 
savory  mess. 

While  anchored  there,  we  heard  them  hammer 
ing  away  at  Fort  Jackson  for  five  days,  with  what 
effect  we  did  not  know  at  that  time.  The  fort  was 


256  THE    LATE    WAR. 

thirty-five  or  forty  miles  above  us,  by  the  river,  but 
probably  not  more  than  thirty-five  in  a  direct  line. 
When  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  wind 
were  favorable,  we  could  distincly  hear  the  thun 
dering  of  the  big  mortars,  and  the  sharp  responses 
of  the  rifle  guns  from  the  fort,  and  see  the  thick 
clouds  of  sulphurous  smoke  shoot  upward  and 
spread  over  the  horizon  after  each  discharge.  One 
night  the  bombardment  seemed  more  terrific  than 
at  any  previous  time.  By  climbing  to  the  cross- 
trees,  on  the  main  mast,  I  succeeded  in  getting  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  contest,  which  amply  re 
paid  me  for  the  danger  of  breaking  my  neck.  The 
great  sheets  of  flame  belched  from  the  capacious 
mortar  mouths  were  distinctly  visible,  reddening 
the  sky  for  a  moment,  while  an  occasional  shell 
bursting  in  the  air  short  of  its  destination,  would 
be  seen  for  an  instant  like  a  brilliant  meteor,  and 
then  disappear.  Large  volumes  of  flames  would 
occasionally  shoot  up,  and  burn  fiercely  for  half  an 
hour.  Those  we  conjectured  to  be  fire-rafts,  sent 
down  from  the  fort  with  the  hope  of  destroying  the 
mortar  fleet.  From  the  indications,  we  were  in 
clined  to  think  Commodore  Porter  had  his  work 
cut  out  for  him  that  time,  and  found  Forts  Jackson 
and  St.  Philip  a  tough  job — tougher  than  salt  horse 
and  army  bread.  All  accounts  represented  the 
rebel  guns  as  having  been  served  with  a  skill  and 
efficiency  quite  remarkable. 

A  story  went  the  rounds  that  our  excellent  major 
general  thought  he  could  run  up  in  the  night  and 
look  at  the  immense  chain  stretched  across  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  257 

river,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  this  side  of  Fort 
Jackson.  I  suppose  he  was  anxious  to  go  up  and 
reconnoitre,  principally  because  he  had  no  busi 
ness  there.  He  did  not  propose  to  do  anything  ex 
cept  satisfy  his  curiosity.  Reticence  is  a  virtue 
peculiarly  prominent  in  great  commanders,  and 
Major  General  B.  F.  B.  informed  no  one  of  his 
intentions,  but,  taking  a  small  steamer,  and  a 
judicious  selection  from  his  staff',  he  quietly  and 
cautiously  steamed  up  the  river,  in  the  direction  of 
the  mysterious  obstacle.  The  lookout  on  one  of 
the  outlying  mortar  boats,  seeing  a  suspicious  craft 
stealing  past,  hailed  it.  No  answer  was  returned, 
and  the  suspicious  craft  kept  steadily  on  its  course. 
One  of  the  big-throated  mortars  was  hastily  trained 
to  bear  on  the  m.  g's.  boat.  ,  A  thundering  report 
made  the  waters  tremble,  and  a  thirteen  inch  shell 
burst  in  uncomfortable  proximity  to  the  party  of 
reconnoisance.  The  general's  boat  was  promptly 
put  about,  and  he  made  excellent  time  down  the 
river,  his  curiosity  fully  satisfied.  Unfortunately, 
rie  did  not  halt  for  a  second  hint,  or  the  country 
might  have  been  relieved  of  as  pure  a  patriot  as 
ever  voted  fifty-seven  times  for  Jeff.  Davis  in  the 
Charleston  convention. 

General  Thomas  Williams,  commanding  our 
present  brigade,  might  not  be  considered  un 
worthy  of  a  slight  notice  at  my  hands.  The  gen 
eral  was  a  Vermonter  by  birth,  and  until  the  break 
ing  out  of  the  rebellion  was  a  captain  or  a  major  in 
the  regular  army.  He  was  a  man  about  five  feet 
eight  inches  in  height,  slender,  florid  complexion, 
17 


258  THE    LATE    WAR. 

whiskers  all  over  his  face,  and  hair  originally 
auburn  in  color,  but  then  nearly  gray,  a  fact  to 
be  attributed  to  service  and  constant  study  of  mili 
tary  science  rather  than  to  the  frosts  of  many  win 
ters.  He  had  the  cold,  merciless  gray  eye,  insep 
arably  connected  with  the  idea  of  a  great  com 
mander,  but  it  lacked  depth,  its  expression  being 
peculiarly  shallow.  At  a  glance  you  were  liable 
to  be  "  taken  in"  by  the  surface  glitter,  but  a 
closer  inspection  discovered  the  sham,  and  lead 
inevitably  to  the  conclusion  that  "  there  was  noth 
ing  in  it."  He  carried  his  head  high  in  the  air, 
wore  a  McClellan  cap,  and  had  a  fashion  when  in 
the  field  of  shading  his  eyes  by  placing  his  hand 
transversely  across  his  forehead,  palm  downward, 
thumb  resting  on  the  nose,  and  little  finger  turned 
outward. 

The  general  had  three  or  four  aids — smooth 
faced,  soft-looking  striplings,  who  looked  as  if 
they  would  appear  to  greater  advantage  "caper 
ing  nimbly  in  a  lady's  drawing  room,"  or  learning 
the  rule  of  three  in  a  village  school,  rather  than  on 
the  tented  field.  Through  them  we  got  at  second 
hand  their  chief's  ideas  about  military  affairs.  It 
was  very  much  like  a  pale  refraction  of  moon 
shine. 

The  general  was  proprietor  of  a  new  and  un 
heard-of  manoeuvre,  which  he  called  the  "order 
of  combat,"  by  which  a  regiment  was  thrown  into 
a  sort  of  echelon,  one  division  in  front,  a  division 
on  either  flank,  and  division  distance  in  the  rear, 
and  two  divisions  massed  in  the  rear  of  these,  and 


THE    LATE    WAR.  259 

crossing  the  division  in  front.  The  movement  was 
open  to  the  objection  not  only  of  being  absolutely 
worthless,  but  of  laying  a  whole  regiment  under 
fire,  with  only  one  division,  or  at  best  three,  able  to 
do  anything.  It  could  not  be  effected  by  any  com 
bination  of  commands,  in  the  tactics,  but  in  chang 
ing  direction,  etc.,  new  commands  must  be  in 
vented.  The  whole  proceeding  was  irregular  and 
awkward,  yet  on  the  subject  of  "order  of  com 
bat,"  Gen.  Williams  was  a  monomaniac. 

The  following  incident  happened  at  Ship  Island. 
The  troops  were  drawn  up  in  brigade  line,  when 
the  general  thought  it  advisable  to  bring  them  to 
a  "shoulder  arms."  Rising  in  his  stirrups  he 
called  out,  "  Shouldah  !  "  The  colonels  repeated 
the  command,  and  the  general,  after  waiting  a  few 
moments  and  seeing  that  no  one  moved,  again 
called  out  sharply,  ' <•  S/zout-dah  I  "  Still  no  one 
stirred,  and  the  general  shaded  his  eyes  to  see  if 
he  could  detect  the  difficulty.  "Shoul-^/"  he 
again  blurted  out  with  increasing  animation.  The 
colonels  repeated  the  command,  but  still  the  butts 
of  the  rifles  clung  pertinaciously  to  the  sand.  In 
utter  astonishment  the  general  sent  Adjutant  Gen 
eral  Wyckham  Hoffman  along  the  line  to  instruct 
the  officers  to  repeat  the  command.  After  his 
aid  had  returned  he  roared  out,  "  Shoul-tffo/z/" 
Colonels,  officers,  and  non-commissioned  officers 
re-echoed  "Shoulder!"  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
The  general,  almost  bursting  with  rage,  shook  his 
fist  at  Colonels  Payne  and  McMillan,  whom  he 
chose  to  consider  at  the  bottom  of  all  devilment, 


26O  THE    LATE    WAR. 

and  started  down  with  the  intention  of  generally 
blowing  up  everybody,  when  he  suddenly  remem 
bered  that  he  had  forgotten  to  give  the  command 
of  execution,  "Arms."  Since  then,  while  taking 
his  airings  on  the  poop  of  the  Great  Republic,  he 
was  frequently  startled  with  stentorian  cries  of 
"Shouldah!" 

The  general,  with  his  aids  and  servants,  monop 
olized  the  cabin,  and  would  not  allow  even  a  col 
onel  to  domesticate  with  him.  The  general  lay  in 
his  comfortable  bunk  beside  an  open  window,  en 
joying  the  sunshine  and  breeze,  and  weighing  the 
argument  in  favor  of  and  against  the  propriety  of 
getting  up,  when  one  of  our  colonels  came  along, 
and  leaning  over  the  taffrail,with  his  portly  figure, 
intercepted  the  general's  streak  of  sun-light.  "  Get 
away  from  there — you!"  roared  the  amiable  Napo 
leon  ot  the  Second  brigade,  N.  E.  D.  You  had 
better  believe  there  was  a  mad  colonel  around 
about  that  time. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FORTS  Jackson  and  St.  Philip  fell.  New  Orleans 
had  surrendered,  and  the  flag  waved  over  the  cus 
tom  house.  The  heavy  blockading  squadron  at 
the  mouths  of  the  river  was  relieved.  It  was  not 
my  good  fortune  to  witness  the  glorious  scene  at 
tending  the  bombardment.  After  fooling  around 
the  Pass  until  we  were  all  heartily  sick  and  dis- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  26 1 

gusted,  being  transferred  daily  from  one  vessel  to 
another,  in  vain  endeavors  to  so  lighten  the 
Great  Republic  that  she  could  be  taken  over  the 
bar,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  25th  of  April,  while 
aboard  the  steam  frigate  Colorado,  we  received  or 
ders  to  move  around  in  the  rear  of  Fort  St.  Philip, 
in  the  vicinity  of  Black  Lake  Bay,  and  disem 
bark.  The  Colorado,  to  the  officers  and  crew  Of 
which  we  were  under  obligations  for  kind  treat 
ment,  was  temporarily  under  the  command  of 
Lieut.  Davis,  of  Carlisle,  Indiana,  a  fine  speci 
men  of  the  thorough  seaman,  gallant  officer,  and 
finished  gentleman.  The  order  for  disembarkation- 
in  the  rear  of  Fort  St.  Philip  was  given  by  Gen. 
Butler,  in  consequence  of  information  that  the  two 
forts  would  be  ours,  as  soon  as  we  chose  to  take 
them,  and  was  designed  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of 
the  rebel  garrisons  in  that  direction.  After  an 
other  transfer  to  the  filthy  decks  of  the  Great  Re 
public,  which,  coming  from  the  clean,  smooth  floors 
of  the  Colorado,  seemed  like  a  descent  from  a  well- 
furnished  parlor  to  a  hog-stye,  we  were  taken  in 
tow  by  a  steam  craft  of  some  sort,  and  carried 
around  to  the  rear  of  the  fort,  where  we  dropped 
anchor  on  the  morning  of  the  27th.  There  we 
were  again  transferred  to  the  gunboat  Miami,  and 
ran  in  as  close  to  the  land  as  her  draught  of  water 
would  permit.  We  were  still  five  or  six  miles  off, 
which  distance  had  to  be  traversed  in  small  boats. 
A  narrow  strip  of  swamp  land,  covered  with 
reeds  and  willows,  ran  between  the  water  and  the 
Mississippi.  Forts  St.  Philip  and  Jackson  were 


262  THE    LATE    WAR. 

plainly  visible  from  the  deck  of  the  Miami,  and  to 
our  gratification,  we  found  the  old  flag  waving  over 
both.  This  necessitated  another  change  in  the 
programme,  and  we  put  back  to  the  Miami  to  Pass 
a  T Outre.  Directly  after  her  coming  to  an  anchor 
in  Black  Lake  Bay,  and  while  yet  aboard  the  Re 
public,  we  were  startled  by  a  loud,  rumbling  ex 
plosion.  Looking  in  the  direction  of  Fort  St.  Philip, 
a  dense  volume  of  smoke  was  seen  shooting  up 
hundreds  of  feet  in  the  air,  and  spreading  far  and 
wide  over  the  horizon.  At  first  we  supposed  the 
fort  itself  had  been  blown  up,  but  it  proved  to  be 
an  immense  floating  battery,  constructed  by  the 
rebels  of  a  floating  dock,  and  heavily  covered  with 
railroad  iron. 

Nothing  more  dreary  could  be  imagined  than 
the  view  from  a  steamer's  deck  in  the  neighbor- 
nood  of  the  Passes.  The  mouths  of  the  river  strike 
out  from  the  main  channel  like  the  roots  of  a  tree, 
in  all  directions.  Between  each  of  the  Passes  is  a 
thin  strip  of  morass  covered  with  cane,  grass  and 
weeds,  but  no  timber.  Among  the  dense  lines  of 
green,  rank  vegetation,  the  alligator,  the  filthy 
moccasin  snake,  and  fierce,  biting  insects  make 
their  homes.  Wild  fowls  of  various  kinds  flap 
their  wings  over  the  wide,  dismal  waste.  Ungainly 
pelicans  and  screaming  sea-gulls  circled  about  the 
vessels,  the  former  making  occasional  plunges 
into  the  water  in  pursuit  of  fish,  and  the  latter 
fighting  and  scrambling  for  scraps  of  meat  and 
such  other  garbage  as  was  thrown  overboard. 
Miscellaneous  collections  of  logs,  stumps,  pieces 


THE    LATE    WAR.  263 

of  wrecks  and  entire  trees — some  of  them  perhaps 
from  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri — lodged  on 
the  bars  or  imbedded  themselves  in  the  loose, 
spongy  mud  of  the  swamps.  Altogether,  the  scene 
was  such  that  even  the  most  mercurial  temperament 
must  be  saddened  and  depressed  by  it.  Above, 
the  forts  and  plantations  began  to  appear,  and  the 
scene  changed,  as  if  by  magic,  from  utter  desola 
tion  to  one  of  exquisite  beauty.  Highly-cultivated 
sugar  farms  were  seen  on  either  side  ;  the  fresh 
green  rows  of  the  young  cane  extended  in  parallel 
lines  back  to  the  swamp,  and  reminded  one  forci 
bly  of  a  vast  Western  corn-field  in  June.  Neat 
rows  of  wooden  houses  afforded  shelter  to  the 
black  bone  and  muscle  we  saw  toiling  in  the  cane, 
and  gave  to  the  plantation  a  village-like  appear 
ance.  The  planters'  residences  were  perfect  models 
of  quaintness  in  architecture  and  beauty  of  sur 
roundings.  Embowered  in  a  dense  growth  of 
flowers  and  shrubbery,  from  the  midst  of  which  the 
magnolia — glorious  with  the  richness  of  its  deep- 
green  shining  leaves  and  the  unapproachable  beauty 
of  its  large  white  flowers — sent  forth  its  grateful 
fragrance.  They  looked  peculiarly  inviting,  espe 
cially  to  us  poor  fellows,  whose  latest  recollections 
were  of  the  Sahara-like  barrenness  of  Ship  Island, 
and  the  horrid  seventeen  days  of  misery,  crammed 
up  without  room  to  turn  about  or  lie  down,  be 
tween  the  loathsome,  fetid  decks  of  a  dirty  trans 
port. 

Just  above  the  light-house  in  Pass  a  1'Outre,  was 
a  little  settlement  of  frame  houses,  built  on  piles 


264  THE    LATE    WAR. 

and  called  Alligator  Town.  It  was  formerly  pop 
ulated  by  a  colony  of  bar  pilots,  but  was  nearly 
deserted.  There  we  anchored  for  the  purpose  of 
receiving  a  mail  from  the  Rhode  Island,  just  with 
out  the  bar,  and  on  her  way  to  the  Southwest 
Pass.  The  American  flag  was  flying  over  one  of 
the  houses,  on  the  piazza  of  which  we  discovered 
a  live  woman,  some  darkies,  and  several  children, 
with  a  weather-beaten  Dutchman  or  Spaniard  in 
the  fore-ground,  who,  on  discovering  our  ap 
proach,  removed  a  dilapidated  hat  from  his  head 
and  caused  it  to  describe  a  series  of  circles  in  the 
air,  accompanying  the  movement  with  husky  roars, 
a  vigorous  fancy  dance,  and  other  demonstrations 
of  joy.  On  passing  the  forts,  we  were  all  on  the 
lookout  for  evidence  of  the  hot  work  which  had 
been  going  on  there,  but  from  the  river  both  Forts 
Jackson  and  Philip  appeared  to  be  little  damaged. 
Looking  at  the  position  of  the  two  forts,  the  fact 
that  our  fleet  was  enabled  to  run  the  gauntlet  of 
their  terrible  fire  with  so  little  injury,  seemed  to  be 
almost  miraculous.  We  stopped  at  the  quarantine 
for  coal.  There  we  found  two  hundred  and  fifty 
rebel  prisoners,  taken  by  the  Twenty-sixth  Massa 
chusetts  in  the  rear  of  St.  Philip,  while  attempt 
ing  to  escape.  They  were  a  motley,  hard-favored 
set  (mostly  foreigners),  some  of  them  uniformed  in 
the  coarse  cotton  goods  used  throughout  the  South 
for  clothing  negroes,  called  osnaburgs,  and  all 
wearing  shirts  made  of  bright  colored  Bay  State 
shawls,  worn  with  the  fringed  tails  outside  of  the 
pants.  These  variegated  shirts,  with  their  bright 


THE    LATE    WAR.  265 

red  and  green  colors,  gave  the  crest-fallen  rebs 
quite  a  gay  and  festive  appearance.  The  greatest 
part  of  the  batch  told  the  same  old  story,  so  con 
venient  for  rebels  in  reduced  circumstances.  They 
had  been  "  pressed,"  or  driven  to  the  service  by  pe 
cuniary  embarrassment,  and  the  gnawings  of  hun 
ger.  All  but  two  of  them  took  the  oath  of  alle 
giance  and  were  released.  Some  half  a  dozen  or 
more  enlisted  in  our  regiment.  Just  above  the  quar 
antine,  with  her  smoke-stack  and  masts  sticking 
out  of  the  water,  lay  the  wreck  of  the  gunboat 
Verona — the  handsomest  and  fastest  gunboat  in 
the  service,  which  was  sunk  by  the  ram  Manassas. 
In  the  vicinity  of  Jackson's  old  battle-ground,  we 
passed  a  formidable  series  of  land  and  water  de 
fenses,  comprising  a  system  of  earth-works  on 
the  left  bank,  extending  clear  back  to  the  swamp, 
which  would  have  seriously  embarrassed  the  ap 
proach  of  a  land  force.  Our  gallant  navy,  how 
ever,  made  short  work  of  them,  and  the  evidences 
of  a  brisk  business,  while  it  lasted,  were  abundant. 
The  earth-works  along  the  bank  were  literally  torn 
to  pieces  with  shot  and -shell,  and  a  sugar-house 
on  the  left  bank  was  completely  riddled,  appar 
ently  from  the  fire  of  their  own  battery  on  the 
other  bank. 

Passing  the  battle-ground,  the  spires  and  domes 
of  the  Crescent  City  were  plainly  seen.  A  residence 
of  several  years  had  rather  attached  me  to  New 
Orleans,  and  it  was  not  without  a  feeling  akin  to 
sadness  that  I  contemplated  the  abundant  evidences 
of  distress  caused  by  the  blockade,  which  was- 


266  THE    LATE    WAR. 

manifested  on  every  hand  as  we  steamed  around 
the  lower  horn.  The  appearance  of  the  city  was 
gloomy  in  the  extreme.  I  was  there  during  the 
fearful  visitation  of  the  yellow  fever  in  1853,  and 
not  even  then  was  it  half  so  dismal.  Of  the  vast 
forests  of  masts,  almost  blocking  up  the  river  in 
former  times,  not  one  was  to  be  seen,  unless,  from 
the  deck  of  a  war-ship  or  gunboat,  bristling  with 
hostile  guns.  Not  a  single  one  of  the  great  fleet 
of  up-river  steamers,  bearing  the  rich  produce  of 
the  great  West  to  its  natural  outlet,  then  smoked 
and  puffed  at  the  warf.  The  space  allotted  to 
broad  horns  was  also  vacant.  The  wharves, 
usually  piled  up  with  cotton,  and  corn,  and  sugar, 
and  miscellaneous  merchandise,  were  perfectly 
bare.  No  thundering  drays,  or  furiously-driven 
omnibusses  were  seen  in  the  streets,  and  the  busi 
ness  houses  were  closed.  With  exception  of  a 
mixed  throng  of  laborers,  rowdies,  darkies,  women 
and  children,  who  crowded  the  wharves  to  see  us 
land,  the  city  seemed  to  be  utterly  deserted — 
dreary,  desolate,  dismal,  dead  and  d — d.  Not  so 
much  as  the  ghost  of  its  wonted  greatness  wan 
dered  among  what  were  the  haunts  of  busy  trade, 
to  remind  one  of  the  New  Orleans  of  former  days. 
Our  blockade  has  been  called  "  inefficient  "  by 
the  captious  cavilers  of  the  British  press  ;  but  in 
efficient  or  not,  the  appearance  of  New  Orleans  at 
that  time  bore  ample  testimony  to  the  terrible 
pressure  to  which  her  people  had  been  subjected. 
We  tied  up  at  the  foot  of  Julia  street,  and  lay  there 
•several  hours,  but  did  not  go  ashore.  A  large  crowd 


THE    LATE    WAR.  267 

collected  around  the  Miami  to  satisfy  their  curios 
ity,  by  having  a  stare  at  the  d — d  Yankees.  We 
were  ordered  to  hold  no  communication  with  any 
one  on  shore.  Finally,  we  cast  off  from  the  wharf, 
dropped  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the  city,  crossed 
•over  to  Algiers,  and  took  up  quarters  in  the  depot 
of  the  New  Orleans,  Opelousas  and  Great  Western 
railroad.  All  the  Algierines  we  had  seen  were  as 
virulent  secessionists  as  their  neighbors  over  the 
way,  though  I  had  little  doubt  but  there  was  some 
Union  feeling  among  them.  The  citizens  of  Al 
giers  depended,  in  former  times,  a  great  deal  on 
the  dry  docks  for  employment,  and,  in  fact,  the 
building  and  repairing  of  vessels  was  the  principal 
business  of  the  place.  The  destruction  of  these 
docks,  by  order  of  Gen.  Lovell,  had,  as  I  learned 
from  a  little  secesh  paper,  published  here,  called 
the  Newsboy^  caused  a  great  deal  of  indignation 
among  them.  They  gathered  around  our  quarters, 
some  looking  crest-fallen,  some  sullen,  and  some 
stolidly  indifferent.  The  negroes,  on  the  other 
hand,  all  looked  pleased.  The  idea  was  fully  fixed 
in  their  poor  muddled  brains  that  our  mission  was 
to  set  them  free. 

General  Williams  was  in  command  of  Fort  Jack 
son,  with  the  Twenty-sixth  Massachusetts.  We 
hoped  he  had  the  "order  of  combat"  there,  and 
kept  it  closely  confined.  The  Ninth  Connecticut, 
Thirtieth  and  Thirty-first  Massachusetts,  Sixth 
Michigan,  Fourth  Wisconsin,  and  other  troops, 
landed  on  the  other  side.  Lying  at  the  foot  of 
Julia  street, while  the  saucy  rebels  were  ringing  the 


268  THE    LATE    WAR. 

changes  on  Bull  Run,  the  band  suddenly  struck 
up  "Picayune  Butler's  coming,  coming."  Seces- 
sia  did  not  relish  the  joke.  Our  dress  parade  in 
Algiers  was  graced  by  the  presence  of  some  half  a 
dozen  or  more  pale-faced  daughters  of  the  South, 
with  secession  colors  conspicuously  displayed  on 
their  bosoms.  They  did  not  appear  to  be  so  rabid 
as  the  fair  Baltimore  rebels,  and  conducted  them 
selves  becomingly. 

The  Dey  of  Algiers  was  a  terrible  fellow,  but  we 
dreaded  the  night  more.  The  mosquitoes,  as  well 
as  the  chivalry,  hungered  and  thirsted  for  the 
blood  of  the  "d— d  Yankees/' 

The  Mississippi  was  very  high,  and  only  a  few 
inches  of  soil  intervened  between  safety  and  a  dis 
astrous  overflow  of  Algiers.  The  Newsboy  of  the 
twenty-fifth,  with  commendable  philosophy,  con 
gratulated  the  citizens  on  the  fact  of  there  being 
no  steamers  to  lash  the  waters  against  the  yielding 
levees.  Now,  the  Federal  fleet  had  deprived  them 
of -even  that  cold  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHILE  we  were  comfortably  quartered  in  the  de 
pot,  we  spent  the  time  very  profitably  in  cleaning  up 
in  person,  clothing,  arms  and  accoutrements,  scour 
ing  the  neighboring  country  for  arms  and  other  prop 
erty  belonging  to  the  Confederates,  and,  as  far  as 


THE    LATE    WAR.  269 

possible,  recovering  from  the  horrible  effects  of  that 
sea  voyage  from  Ship  Island.  When  the  fleet  made 
their  appearance  before  the  city,  a  great  deal  of 
property  was  left  on  the  field,  by  the  Confederate 
troops,  in  the  general  scamper  which  ensued.  This 
trumpery  was  hastily  carted  off  and  secreted  on 
the  different  plantations  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but 
through  the  energetic  efforts  of  Lieutenant  Colonel 
Keith  and  other  officers,  much  of  it  was  recovered. 
A  large  number  of  field-pieces,  shot,  shell  and 
small  arms,  hospital  stores  and  bedding,  flour  and 
•other  provisions,  clothing,  camp  bedsteads,  officers' 
swords,  saddles,  harness,  canteens,  knapsacks, 
haversacks,  etc.,  had  accumulated  on  our  hands. 
In  a  large  foundry  in  the  village  of  Gretna,  about 
three  miles  from  us,  there  were  thousands  of  shot 
and  shell,  several  of  the  largest  kind  of  unfinished 
cannon,  gun-stocks,  etc.  In  this  establishment  the 
manufacture  of  war  munitions  appeared  to  have 
been  extensively  and  skillfully  carried  on.  Con 
nected  with  the  manufactory  of  iron  articles  was  a 
brass  establishment  for  the  manufacture  of  brass 
cannon,  mountings  and  plates.  In  the  foundry  we 
found  a  large  number  of  unfinished  sword-bayo 
nets,  bearing  evidence  of  skillful  workmanship. 

Within  two  miles  of  our  encampment  we  found 
a  lot  of  beef  cattle,  which  a  Frenchman,  named 
Bonte,  was  pasturing  for  the  Confederates.  They 
were  not  in  the  best  possible  order  for  butchering, 
and  I  presume  would  scarcely  be  exposed  for  sale 
by  any  respectable  butcher  in  any  city  market,  but 
a  long  and  irksome  regimen  of  "salt  horse"  and 


27O  THE    LATE    WAR. 

rusty  pork  left  us  in  a  condition  by  no  means  fas 
tidious,  and  the  Confederate  beef  was  eaten  with  a 
relish. 

Having  taken  possession,  for  the  time  being,  of 
the  railroad,  we  kept  its  rolling  stock  tolerably 
busy  in  transporting  scouting  parties  to  and  from 
different  points  on  the  road,  manning  the  trains 
with  engineers,  firemen,  brakemen  and  conductors- 
from  our  own  ranks. 

On  a  little  island  in  the  bayou,  des  Alemands, 
about  two  hundred  yards  above  the  bridge,  secre 
ted  in  an  abandoned  dwelling,  we  made  a  good 
haul  of  powder,  fixed  ammunition,  saddles,  artil 
lery  harness,  and  knapsacks,  canteens,  etc.  Two- 
brass  six-pound  field-pieces  had  been  in  position 
on  the  island  for  the  purpose  of  commanding  the 
bridge,  but  had  been  removed  before  our  visit.  A 
rigid  cross-examination  of  such  of  the  white  na 
tives  as  we  could  pick  up  failed  to  elicit  anything 
as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  missing  guns,  but  a 
little  judicious  inquiry  among  the  colored  popula 
tion  was  more  successful,  and  we  found  them  in  a 
boat  up  a  little  creek,  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
bayou.  I  may  as  well  confess  right  here  that  what 
ever  success  attended  our  scouting  and  foraging  ex 
peditions,  was  mainly  due  to  the  alacrity  with  which 
the  darkeys  gave  us  information.  They  almost 
universally  showed  themselves  willing  and  anxious 
to  benefit  us  in  every  possible  way.  Occasionally, 
however,  one  was  found  silly  enough  to  believe  all 
they  had  latterly  been  told  of  us — that  we  would 
take  them  North,  where  there  was  snow  all  the  year 


THE    LATE    WAR.  27 1 

round,  and  make  them  work  day  and  night  in  coal 
mines,  and  lead  mines,  and  other  stuff  of  a  like  na 
ture  ;  but  the  most  of  them  believed  that  for  them 
the  millennium  had  come,  and  even  the  most  intel 
ligent,  who  perfectly  understood  that  the  war  was 
not  a  war  for  the  abolition  of  slavery,  still  believed 
that  their  condition  would,  somehow  or  other,  be 
materially  bettered  by  the  triumph  of  the  Federal 
arms. 

About  this  time  I  went  on  an  expedition  up  the 
country,  which  resulted  in  the  capture  of  the 
steamer  Morning  Light,  in  the  Red  river,  a  few 
miles  above  the  mouth.  Col.  McMillan  went  up 
with  a  squad  of  fifty  men,  on  the  "Bee,"  an  old 
rickety,  wheezing  concern,  built  at  Portsmouth, 
Ohio,  and  a  little  larger  than  an  ordinary  chicken 
coop.  The  Morning  Light  was  a  fine,  large  boat, 
and  one  of  the  many  which  were  hastily  taken  out 
of  New  Orleans  port  on  the  approach  of  the  fleet, 
and  had  been  ever  since  skulking  about  in  the 
numerous  bayous  and  lakes  in  the  western  part  of 
the  State.  She  had  taken  a  cargo  of  sugar  up 
Bayou  Macon,  to  change  for  cattle,  and  had  just 
returned  to  the  island  plantation  owned  by  Mrs. 
Turnbull,  a  few  miles  above  the  mouth  of  Red 
river,  as  we  came  up.  A  large  quantity  of  sugar 
was  still  aboard. 

Gen.  Butler  made  a  favorable  impression  upon 
the  well-disposed  citizens  of  the  town  and  country. 
Whatever  opinion  may  be  entertained  of  his  mili 
tary  qualifications,  that  he  was  master  of  his  situa 
tion  was  evident.  In  no  particular  was  this  fact 


THE    LATE    WAR. 


more  manifest  than  in  his  prompt  and  judicious 
handling  of  the  banks  and  money-sharks  of  the 
city.  His  policy  may  have  caused  temporary  dis 
tress,  but  the  financial  bubble  was  so  monstrously 
swollen  that  it  must  soon  have  burst  without  inter 
ference.  The  people  of  Louisiana  had  been  the 
victims  of  the  most  unheard  of  scoundrelism  by  the 
leaders  and  abettors  of  that  unholy  war.  Familiar 
as  we  were  with  the  villainy  of  shoddy  contractors 
in  the  North,  their  "  operations  "  were  but  molehills 
to  the  mountainous  rascalities  of  Jew  harpies  of 
the  South.  Duplicate  and  triplicate  bank  notes  and 
shinplasters  had  been  circulated  all  over  the  coun 
try.  Even  Confederate  treasury  notes  had  been 
duplicated.  It  was  no  unusual  thing  to  see  gentle 
men  possessed  of  two  Confederate  notes  of  the 
same  number  and  denomination,  made  on  the  same 
plate,  and  bearing  the  same  signatures.  Army  of 
ficers,  army  contractors,  State  officials,  and  money 
dealers,  all,  apparently,  conspired  to  plunder  the 
people.  No  city  in  the  United  States,  of  the  same 
business,  had  ever  been  so  uniformly  rich  in  coin 
as  New  Orleans  ;  and  yet,  when  we  came  here, 
you  might  have  hunted  the  city  over  without  find 
ing  an  ounce  of  specie.  The  hard  money  had 
been  absorbed  by  these  sharks,  with  the  intention 
of  making  their  escape  from  the  country  before  the 
crash.  John  Slidell,  who  counted  his  property  in 
that  State  by  the  million  twelve  months  ago,  it  was 
then  said,  did  not  own  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth. 
Probably  a  cosy  chateau  in  France  had  already 
been  purchased,  to  afford  the  old  villain  a  quiet 


THE    LATE    WAR.  273 

resting  place  from  the  arduous  labors  of  his  scoun 
drel  life. 

The  trains  to  Berwick  Bay  had  been  allowed  to 
run,  under  charge  of  some  of  our  officers,  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  beef  to  the  suffering  citizens. 
For  some  time  the  shipment  of  beef  had  been 
nearly  suspended  by  the  intervention  of  an  armed 
banditti  in  the  beef  parishes,  who  refused  to  allow 
any  cattle  to  be  shipped,  although  knowing  they 
were  intended  for  the  citizens  of  New  Orleans. 
The  train  from  that  place  was  taken  possession  of 
by  an  armed  band  of  marauders,  several  hundred 
in  number.  Lieutenants  Cox  and  Connelly,  of  our 
regiment,  and  five  Michigan  soldiers,  they  held  as 
prisoners.  They  cut  the  levee  thirteen  miles  above, 
and  a  fearful  crevasse  inundated  that  part  of  the 
country.  The  water  was  six  feet  deep  over  the 
railroad  track.  After  cutting  the  levee  they  re 
treated  with  the  train  toward  the  bay,  burning  the 
bridges  over  bayous  Des  Allemands,  Lafourche 
and  Boeuf.  An  expedition,  under  Col.  McMillan, 
left  to  reach  the  bay  by  means  of  bayou  Atchafa- 
laya  and  its  connections. 

Some  of  the  most  desperate  and  bloody  encoun 
ters  of  the  rebellion  are  either  unknown  to  the  his 
torian,  or  are  deemed  unworthy  of  more  than  a 
brief  allusion.  The  newspapers  were  exceedingly 
liberal  at  the  beginning  of  the  struggle,  and  chron 
icled  the  battle  of  Romney,  and  the  sanguinary 
engagement  at  Phillippi,  in  voluminous  columns  of 
eulogy.  But  as  events  crowded  on  each  other, 
such  small  affairs  were  passed  over  with  a  brief 
18 


^74  THE  LATE  WAR. 

mention,  while  it  required  a  Shiloh  or  Gettysburg 
to  bring  out  the  war  eloquence  in  its  full  strength 
and  fervor.  The  fight  at  Lafourche  Crossing, 
Louisiana,  where  a  small  detachment  of  Union 
forces,  unable  to  run  away,  met  the  onslaught  of  a 
larger  number  of  rebels,  flushed  with  a  previous 
victory  and  drunk  with  Louisiana  rum,  has  passed 
out  of,  or  rather,  never  entered  into,  the  history  of 
the  war.  Yet  it  was  probably  the  best  illustration  of 
desperate  courage,  on  both  sides,  that  the  war  af 
forded,  and  was  attended  with  greater  carnage,  in 
proportion  to  the  number  of  men  engaged,  than 
any  of  the  historic  battles  which  shook  the  nation 
to  its  center.  At  Lafourche  the  rebels  charged  re 
peatedly  in  the  face  of  batteries  that  belched  con 
tinuous  volleys  of  canister,  and  many  of  them 
were  bayoneted  at  the  very  muzzles  of  the  Union 
guns.  Charging  a  battery,  in  war  literature,  usu 
ally  means  an  advance  by  an  attacking  force,  and 
tthe  retreat  of  the  artillerists  before  the  force  come 
within  reach  of  the  bayonet,  or  else  the  attacking 
force  turns  tail  after  a  sufficient  taste  of  grape  and 
canister ;  but  at  Lafourche  the  advance  of  the 
rebels  meant  business,  and  many  of  them  were 
torn  to  pieces  by  discharges  of  canister,  which 
struck  them  within  twelve  feet  of  the  muzzles,  the 
survivors  being  transfixed  with  the  bayonet  or 
taken  prisoner. 

The  capture  of  the  Fox  was  one  of  the  early 
events  of  Butler's  occupation  of  Louisiana,  which 
has  not  received  sufficient  notice  at  the  hands  of 
Ihe  historian.  The  Fox  was  one  of  the  swiftest 


THE    LATE   WAR.  275 

and  sharpest  of  the  blockade  runners  which  eluded 
the  vigilance  of  our  navy  in  that  latitude,  and  she 
made  trips  with  almost  the  regularity  of  a  packet 
ship  between  Nassau  and  the  Louisiana  coast, 
landing  her  cargoes  in  some  secluded  inlet,  and 
getting  away  before  her  presence  was  discovered. 
The  cruisers  all  knew  the  Fox,  and  had  often 
chased  her  without  effect.  Shortly  after  the  occu 
pation  of  Algiers  by  the  Twenty-first  Indiana,  a 
Union  man  brought  intelligence  to  Col.  McMillan 
that  a  blockade  runner  had  put  into  Grand  Caillou, 
which  empties  into  the  Gulf  on  the  western  coast. 
The  colonel  reported  the  fact  to  Gen.  Butler,  and 
asked  permission  to  attempt  her  capture,  which 
was  readily  granted.  Taking  a  small  detachment 
of  men,  the  colonel  started  on  the  Berwick  Bay 
railroad,  and  arrived  at  Terre  Bonne  station  a  lit 
tle  after  dark.  From  Terre  Bonne  the  distance  to 
the  mouth  of  Grand  Caillou  is  between  twenty  and 
twenty-five  miles — most  too  great  to  insure  his  get 
ting  there  before  daylight,  if  he  traveled  as  in 
fantry.  He  accordingly  sent  out  squads  of  men 
to  the  plantations  adjacent  to  Terre  Bonne,  and 
impressed  mules  and  carts  enough  to  transport  his 
men.  Having  obtained  the  necessary  transporta 
tion,  the  force  set  out  for  the  objective  point  in  a 
brisk  mule  walk,  occasionally  enlivened  by  a  trot. 
The  town  of  Houma — a  neat,  handsome  place  of 
perhaps  a  thousand  inhabitants,  bearing  about  it 
the  usual  characteristics  of  the  Louisiana  French 
village — lay  on  the  line  of  march.  Not  caring  to 
alarm  the  neighborhood,  and  thus  send  the  news 


276  THE    LATE    WAR. 

of  his  coming  ahead  of  the  detachment,  the  colo 
nel  enjoined  the  most  rigorous  silence  on  his  men, 
and  the  cavalcade  passed  through  the  silent  and 
deserted  streets  of  the  village  with  no  other  sound 
than  the  trampling  feet  of  the  mules,  and  the  creak 
of  a  neglected  cart-wheel, which  wailed  for  the  want 
of  grease.  Not  a  light  was  to  be  seen — not  a  night- 
capped  head  was  thrust  from  an  upper  window — 
not  a  dog  barked — and  it  was  thought  that  the  de 
tachment  had  passed  through  without  attracting 
attention.  Subsequent  events,  however,  showed 
this  to  have  been  a  mistake.  A  belated  bummer, 
who  had  tumbled  down  in  a  fence  corner  to  sleep 
oft'  his  potations,  was  awakened  by  the  creaking 
of  the  ungreased  cart-wheel,  and,  with  eyes  bulg 
ing  from  their  sockets,  took  an  inventory  of  the 
ghostly  cavalcade  as  it  filed  silently  by  in  the  un 
certain  light  of  a  starless  night.  Next  morning  his 
tale  of  armed  men,  with  horses  and  cannon,  steal 
ing  silently  through  the  sacred  streets  of  Houma, 
was  regarded  by  many  as  a  drunken  dream  ;  but 
an  arrival  from  Terre  Bonne,  detailing  with  many 
exaggerations  the  impressment  of  mules  and  carts, 
lent  an  air  of  reality  to  the  drunkard's  dream. 

The  passage  through  Houma  having  been  success 
fully  accomplished,  the  detachment  was  ordered  to 
continue  its  march  on  quick  time,  and,  stimulated 
by  the  cart  whip,  the  plantation  mules  developed  a 
speed  which  was  gratifying  as  well  as  surprising. 
The  colonel  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  arrive  at 
the  mouth  of  Grand  Caillou  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  knew  that  a  horseman,  mounted  on  a  swift 


THE    LATE    WAR.  277 

steed,  could  leave  Terre  Bonne  an  hour  or  so  after 
him,  pass  him  on  the  road  by  making  a  detour, 
and  arrive  at  Grand  Caillou  in  time  to  enable  the 
sly  Fox  to  get  up  steam,  and  be  far  out  on  the 
raging  billow  before  his  mule  express  could  reach 
there.  He  counted,  however  on  the  terror  of  the 
people  about  Terre  Bonne,  a  want  of  decision,  and 
a  lack  of  information  as  the  object  of  the  expedi 
tion.  He  accordingly  spurred  the  jaded  mules  on 
their  way,  while  the  hoarse  bellow  of  the  alligator 
was  heard  from  the  neighboring  swamps,  and  the 
horned  owl  hooted  a  remonstrant  greeting  from 
the  roadside  trees.  The  men,  in  total  ignorance  of 
the  object  of  the  expedition,  discussed  in  low  whis 
pers  the  various  probabilities,  and  were  all  eager 
as  a  pack  of  hounds  to  pounce  on  the  quarry, 
whatever  it  might  be. 

Time  passed,  and  in  the  gray  twilight  of  early 
morning  the  detachment  was  halted,  and  a  recon- 
noitering  force,  under  command  of  a  sergeant,  sent 
out.  Proceeding  down  the  bayou,  as  the  fog  lifted, 
the  sergeant  discovered  the  black,  dingy-look 
ing  hull  of  the  Fox,  as  she  lay  moored  to  the  bank, 
surrounded  by  boxes  and  bales  of  her  partially  dis 
charged  cargo.  With  the  exception  of  a  single 
sentinel,  pacing  sleepily  to  and  fro,  and  occasion 
ally  looking  wistfully  toward  the  east  in  anticipa 
tion  of  sunrise,  there  was  no  sign  of  life  about 
the  Fox.  She  was,  in  sooth,  an  innocent-looking 
craft,  and  for  all  outward  signs  to  the  contrary, 
might  have  been  an  asthmatic  tug  laying  up  for 
repairs.  Yet  the  operations  of  the  next  few  mo- 


278  THE    LATE    WAR. 

ments,  successfuly  conducted,  would  be  worth  as 
much  as  the  winning  of  a  battle  to  the  government. 
The  colonel  divided  his  force,  crossed  half  of 
them  to  the  other  side  of  the  bayou,  and  the  two  de 
tachments,  marching  simultaneously,  crept  silently 
along  the  banks  of  the  black,  sluggish  stream  to 
ward  their  prey.  The  sentinel  walked  lazily  to  and 
fro,  yawning  at  intervals,  and  occasionally  sitting 
down  on  a  bulk-head  to  ruminate.  The  two  wings 
of  the  attacking  force  approached  nearer  and 
nearer.  Finally  the  vigilant  sentinel  heard  some 
thing,  looked  up  and  saw  something.  His  sleepy 
eyes  unclosed  to  their  widest  extent,  but  still  he  did 
not  appreciate  the  situation.  He  saw  that  armed 
men  were  approaching,  but  he  had  not  yet  heard 
of  the  fall  of  New  Orleans,  and  he  would  as  soon 
have  expected  to  meet  the  ghost  of  his  great  grand 
father  as  Yankees  in  that  secluded  place.  Finally 
it  dawned  on  him  that  there  might  be  something 
improper  in  allowing  people  to  whom  he  had  never 
been  introduced,  approach  in  that  way,  and  that  he 
had  better  demonstrate.  He  accordingly  fired  off 
his  musket — threw  it  away,  and  rushed  howling 
into  the  cabin.  The  order  was  given  to  double 
quick,  and  the  two  detachments  closed  around  the 
vessel.  A  walk-board  had  been  conveniently  left 
on  the  side  to  which  she  was  moored,  and  the  force 
on  that  side  boarded  in  gallant  style.  All  was  con 
fusion  on  the  blockade  runner.  The  engineer 
plunged  overboard  from  the  stern,  and  swam  to 
the  opposite  shore,  where  a  big  corporal  reached 
down,  caught  him  by  the  collar,  and  swung  him 


THE    LATE    WAR.  279 

dripping  like  a  drowned  rat,  to  dry  land.  The 
captain,  dressed  in  a  cool,  flowing  costume  of 
snowy  muslin,  tumbled  out  of  his  berth  with  a 
bright,  new  English  revolver  in  his  hand,  but  sur 
rendered,  as  soon  as  the  urgency  of  the  case  was 
explained  to  him.  The  colored  steward,  his  face 
turned  to  an  ashen  hue,  was  down  on  his  knees 
praying  fluently  for  mercy.  The  crew  were  pro 
testing  that  they  were  Union  at  heart,  but  had  been 
impressed  into  the  service. 

Order  was  soon  restored,  however,  and  the  Fox, 
with  her  crew  and  cargo,  passed  from  the  Confed 
erate  States  of  America  to  the  United  thereof. 
The  captain  and  crew  were  paroled  not  to  attempt 
to  escape.  The  engineer  and  pilot,  however,  were 
deemed  too  valuable  to  take  any  risks  in  their  cases. 
Their  parole  was  taken,  but  at  the  same  time  the 
colonel  deemed  it  advisable  to  keep  them  under 
strict  surveillance,  to  frustrate  any  attempt  at 
"lighting  out." 

About  half  the  Fox's  cargo  had  been  discharged 
and  hauled  away.  Colonel  McMillan,  however, 
was  in  no  hurry.  He  ascertained  where  it  had 
been  stored,  and  had  it  hauled  back  again  and  re 
loaded.  In  a  day  or  two  the  Fox  was  again  ready 
for  sea.  There  being  no  custom-house  formalities 
to  undergo,  she  steamed  out  of  the  mouth  of  the 
black,  sluggish  bayou,  and  bore  away  for  New 
Orleans.  The  colonel's  nautical  education  had 
been  neglected.  He  had  breasted  the  billowy 
waves  of  the  Wabash  as  skipper  of  a  flatboat,  and 
was  every  inch  a  sailor  on  the  "walk-board,"  with 


280  THE    LATE    WAR. 

the  end  of  the  steering  oar  under  his  arm  ;  but 
when  it  came  to  the  use  of  the  sextant,  and  work 
ing  out  a  "dead  reckoning"  by  lunar  or  solar  ob 
servations,  he  was  all  at  sea.  So  he  was  com 
pelled  to  trust  to  the  officers  of  the  Fox.  It  was 
explained  to  them,  however,  that  their  treatment 
depended  very  much  on  their  behavior.  If  they 
took  the  ship  safely  over  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Mississippi,  they  would  be  considered  jolly 
good  fellows  ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  they  attempted 
any  of  their  tricks  on  landsmen,  the  moment  their 
treachery  was  discovered,  there  would  be  immedi 
ate  incision  and  imbruing.  With  this  understand 
ing,  the  best  of  relations  were  established  between 
the  captured  and  the  captors.  Among  the  stores 
of  the  Fox  were  sundry  boxes  of  choice  wines  and 
fragrant  Havanas,  and  a  generous  stock  of  fresh 
provisions  had  been  laid  in  before  leaving  Grand 
Caillou.  The  voyage  was  a  pleasant  one  to  all, 
and  the  ship,  with  a  cargo  worth  half  a  million  of 
dollars,  was  turned  over  to  the  authorities  at  New 
Orleans,  minus  drinkage,  smokage,  a  little  steal- 
age  and  a  number  of  souvenirs  distributed  among 
"  the  boys"  as  mementoes  of  their  first  great  naval 
victory. 

An  interesting  incident  of  the  voyage  was  the 
recapture  of  the  Fox  by  a  Government  cruiser. 
The  blue  jackets  had  never  been  able  to  pick  up 
the  sly  varmint  while  she  belonged  to  the  Confed 
eracy,  but  they  gobbled  her  on  her  way  to  New 
Orleans,  within  three  days  of  her  change  of  own 
ership.  One  night  a  cruiser  ran  down  across  her 


THE    LATE    WAR.  28 1 

bows  and  showed  signals.  Col.  McMillan,  not 
knowing  what  signals  to  show  in  reply,  kept  stead 
ily  on  his  course.  The  next  moment  there  was  the 
flash  of  a  gun,  and  a  thirty-two  pound  shot 
whistled  close  to  the  Fox's  chimneys.  The  engine 
was  stopped  immediately,  and  the  Fox  lay  tossing 
lightly  on  the  gentle  swell  of  the  waves,  while  a 
boat  from  the  cruiser  approached.  A  clean,  natty 
little  lieutenant  climbed  up  the  vessel's  side  and 
made  his  wray  to  the  cabin.  "  Who  is  in  command 
of  this  vessel?  "  he  inquired. 

He  was  directed  to  the  colonel,  who  had  but 
toned  his  coat  over  his  portly  person,  and  with 
.sword  and  sash  on,  was  prepared  to  receive  com 
pany. 

"  I'll  trouble  you  for  your  sword,"  said  the  lieu 
tenant,  politely. 

"  Oh  no.  I  hardly  think  that  will  be  necessary," 
replied  the  colonel. 

"  Why  not?  "  suggested  the  naval  hero. 

66 1  am  a  Federal  officer,"  replied  the  colonel, 
•"  and  this  vessel  is  my  prize."  The  lieutenant 
took  a  rapid  inventory  of  the  colonel's  appearance, 
took  in  the  gilt  buttons,  the  red  sash,  and  dwelt  on 
the  texture  of  his  cloth.  He  then  inquired,  in  a 
.somewhat  bewildered  manner : 

"  What  navy  do  you  belong  to?" 

The  colonel  smiled  audibly,  and  explained  that 
he  was  only  in  the  navy  -pro  tem. — that  he  was  col 
onel  of  the  Twenty-first  Indiana  volunteers,  but, 
seeing  an  opportunity  of  doing  a  good  thing,  he 


282  THE    LATE    WAR. 

thought  he  might  as  well  take  it  in,  notwithstand 
ing  it  was  out  of  his  line. 

The  lieutenant  was  evidently  chagrined  to  think 
that  the  coveted  prize  which  had  so  often  slipped 
through  the  fingers  of  the  blockading  fleet,  had  at 
last  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  land  lubber,  but  he 
was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  not  to  congratulate 
the  colonel  on  his  luck  and  pluck,  and  after  taking 
a  glass  of  wine  and  a  cigar,  he  got  into  his  little 
boat  and  left,  wishing  the  Fox  a  prosperous  voyage. 

If  Colonel  McMillan  had  belonged  to  the  navyy 
instead  of  the  army,  the  capture  of  the  Fox  would 
have  netted  himself  something  handsome  in  the 
way  of  prize  money.  As  it  was,  he  got  nothing 
but  glory,  and  not  much  of  that. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BENEATH  an  enormous  magnolia,  almost  smoth 
ered  with  climbing  vines,  about  one  mile  from 
Baton  Rouge,  I  found  myself  early  in  June.  Our 
location  was  a  beautiful  one,  and  if  the  romance 
had  not  been  so  effectually  thumped  and  bumped 
out  of  me,  by  twelve  months  of  soldiering,  I  might 
have  been  in  raptures  over  our  surroundings.  We 
had  noble  old  sweet  gums  and  magnolias,  with  the 
blue  canopy  of  heaven  to  sleep  under,  and  natural 
arbors  of  wild  vines  to  keep  oft'  the  dews.  The 
glorious  moonlight  sifted,  and  "dropped  and  lifted,"" 


THE    LATE    WAR.  283' 

and  the  tremulous  wooing  of  the  gentle  south 
wind  "  soothed  us  night  and  day,''  but  there  were 
collateral  incidents  and  accidents  of  the  situation 
that  detracted  sorely  from  its  romance.  The  mock 
ing-bird,  and  other  feathered  songsters,  twittered 
and  warbled  among  the  branches,  and  bright-col 
ored  finches  flashed  in  and  out  of  the  green  clus 
ters,  but  the  trail  of  the  lizard  was  over  all.  Green 
and  ghastly  to  the  eye  ;  cold,  slimy,  and  snaky  to 
the  touch,  they  chased  each  other  recklessly  up 
and  down  the  trunks,  laid  in  a  half  torpid  state  of 
flatness,  or  hung  stupidly  by  their  heel,  with  their 
throats  puffed  out,  looking  like  soap-bubbles,  emit 
ting  a  shrill,  piping,  foggy  sort  of  a  whistle.  And 
these  exasperating  little  reptiles  were  always  drop 
ping.  You  could  not  lie  down  for  a  brief  after- 
dinner  nap,  but  the  first  lizard  that  discovered  you 
made  it  a  point  to  drop.  If  he  happened  to 
miss  his  aim,  he  took  you  on  his  way  back,  and 
either  crawled  up  your  leg  or  slid  rapidly  over 
your  face,  and  up  the  trunk.  Beside  lizards,  we 
had  ticks — reed  ticks  and  wood  ticks,  and  dog 
ticks,  antics,  critics,  and  tic  doloreux.  However 
much  our  suttler  might  feel  disposed  to  discour 
age  a  credit  business,  no  obtrusive  placard  of  "  No 
tick  here,"  could  be  found  anywhere  in  camp. 
And  then  the  bugs  ;  there  were  round  bugs,  and 
flat  bugs,  and  oblong  bugs,  and  spiral  bugs — hum 
bugs  and  bugaboos — bugs  emitting  a  deadly  stench 
when,  as  invariably  happened,  they  procured  them 
selves  to  be  crushed. 

We  came  to  that  camp  on  the  ist  of  June.    Gen- 


284  THE    LATE    WAR. 

eral  Williams  (God  bless  that  remarkable  old  brick) 
had  been  seriously  annoyed  by  a  band  of  about  one 
hundred  mounted  guerrillas,  and  having  but  three 
regiments  and  two  batteries  with  him,  sent  for  the 
Twenty-first  Indiana,  Thirtieth  Massachusetts  and 
Ninth  Connecticut,  to  come  up  and  help  him  clean 
them  out,  according  "to  the  order  of  combat.'1  I 
am  inclined  to  look  upon  the  order  compelling  us 
to  go  there  as  a  judgment  of  Providence  upon  our 
pride.  We  had  not  seen  our  beloved  brigadier  for 
a  long  time.  We  had  been  well  treated  at  Algiers, 
were  doing  the  government  some  service,  had  al 
most  forgotten  the  "order  of  combat,"  and  began 
to  entertain  some  respect  for  the  service  and  for 
•ourselves.  In  short,  we  began  to  "  feel  our  oats," 
,and  the  righteous  judgment  of  Heaven  overtook  us. 

Upon  arriving  at  Baton  Rouge,  according  to  pre 
cedent,  we  were  obliged  to  remain  on  ship-board 
until  the  Nutmeg  regiment  was  quartered.  We 
sent  up  to  the  general's  quarters  to  ask  permission 
for  a  detachment  to  go  on  shore  and  cook  for  the 
regiment,  there  being  no  facilities  on  board.  The 
amiable  chieftain  informed  us  that  no  one  would 
be  allowed  to  go  on  shore.  Going  ashore  to  cook 
meant  going  ashore  to  steal.  The  Western  regi 
ments  in  his  command  had  done  nothing  but  pil 
lage  since  they  had  been  in  the  service.  He  had 
no  confidence  in  them.  They  did  not  come  up  to 
the  standard. 

It  would  require  more  time  and  patience  than  I 
have  at  hand,  to  express  the  utter  detestation 
oi  that  man  by  the  Western  men  under  his  com- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  285 

mand.  From  the  first  day  of  his  connection  with 
us,  he  had  done  nothing  but  insult,  libel  and  op 
press  the  three  Western  regiments  that  had  had 
the  misfortune  to  be  placed  under  him,  resorting 
to  petty  annoyances,  of  which  even  our  eighth 
corporal  would  be  ashamed,  to  render  our  position 
uncomfortable.  His  policy  seemed  to  be  that  of 
treating  everybody  well  except  the  soldiers  of  his 
command.  As  to  the  charge  of  pillaging,  there 
had  been  but  little  foundation  for  it  in  any  of  the 
regiments  under  his  command,  and  less  among  the 
Western  regiments  than  any  other. 

Colonel  McMillan,  of  the  Twenty-first  Indiana,, 
was  severely,  though  not  dangerously,  wounded. 
He  went  at  night  ten  or  twelve  miles  into  the  in 
terior,  with  a  detachment  of  four  hundred  men,  to 
prevent  the  burning  of  some  cotton,  and  to  try  and 
bag  a  few  of  the  mounted  marauders  who  ranged 
between  our  place  and  Camp  Moore.  The  Colo 
nel,  Major  Hayes,  Adjutant  Latham,  and  one  or 
two  others  being  mounted,  rode  ahead  of  the  de 
tachment,  and  surrounded  the  house  of  an  old  man 
named  Roberts,  known  as  the  headquarters  of  a 
guerrilla  band.  There  were  five  guerrillas  inside, 
armed  with  double-barreled  shot-guns.  As  the  col 
onel  rode  up,  old  man  Roberts  and  his  two  sons 
came  to  the  door  and  fired  five  shots  at  him.  One 
of  the  young  Roberts  fired  first,  when  Colonel  Mc 
Millan  drew  a  pistol  and  shot  him  through  the 
head,  killing  him  instantly. 

The  old  man,  after  discharging  both  barrels  of 
his  gun,  attempted  to  escape  through  a  back  door, 


286  THE    LATE    WAR. 

but  was  fired  at  by  Major  Hayes,  when  he  fell  flat 
on  his  face  and  lay  perfectly  still  until  secured. 
Col.  McMillan  was  struck  five  times — two  balls 
entered  his  left  hand  between  the  knuckles,  and 
passed  through  ;  one  penetrated  the  arm  above  the 
wrist,  ranged  upward  toward  the  elbow  and  lodged 
between  the  bones  ;  one  struck  in  the  left  breast, 
just  over  the  heart ;  and  the  other  in  the  side.  The 
shot  in  the  breast  spent  its  force  in  the  clothing 
and  wadding,  and  did  not  penetrate  ;  the  wound 
in  the  side  had  an  ugly  look,  but  on  examination 
proved  to  be  not  so  serious,  the  ball  having  ranged 
backward  without  penetrating  the  cavity.  The 
colonel's  horse  received  six  buckshot  in  his  neck. 
After  being  wounded,  the  colonel  rode  about  three 
miles  on  horseback,  when  a  carriage  was  pro- 
•cured,  and  he  was  conveyed  to  town,  impatient  of 
the  prospect  of  being  laid  up  for  a  time.  He  said 
he  would  not  have  minded  being  touched  a  little 
in  battle  with  a  soldier's  weapon,  but  hated  to  be 
picked  off  like  a  jack-rabbit,  with  a  shot  gun. 

The  expedition  brought  in  over  one  hundred 
bales  of  cotton,  which  were  piled  up  in  the  woods, 
waiting  to  be  burned.  They  found,  also,  a  great 
deal  already  burning. 

Of  the  pieces  captured  by  our  regiment  near 
Algiers,  at  Bayou  des  Allemands,  and  at  other 
points,  a  battery  of  flying  artillery  was  organized, 
to  be  permanently  attached  to  the  regiment,  under 
the  command  of  Lieut.  James  M.  Brown,  of  Bed 
ford,  Ind.  The  battery  was  thoroughly  equipped 


THE    LATE    WAR.  287 

with  confiscated  mules,  and  manned  entirely  from 
our  own  regiment. 

In  times  of  peace  the  South  was  governed  pretty 
much  as  the  North,  by  its  politicians  and  moneyed 
men,  but  it  was  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  in  war 
time,  the  planters,  the  bankers,  and  the  merchants 
were  mainstays  of  the  rebellion.  In  the  excite 
ment  of  the  revolution,  the  puppets  changed  places 
with  their  masters,  and  the  South  was  then  gov 
erned  by  a  mob.  Mechanics,  laborers,  jack-leg- 
lawyers  and  quack  doctors,  livery  stable-keepers, 
whisky-sellers,  gamblers,  and  "poor  white  trash," 
were  the  bitterest  and  most  uncompromising  rebels. 
If  there  was  any  Union  feeling  in  the  South — any 
lingering  regrets  for  the  glory  of  the  old  flag,  and 
the  good  old  times  of  peace  and  plenty — it  was 
to  be  found  among  the  planters  and  merchants. 
Many  of  the  planters  and  moneyed  men  would 
have  been  content  with  anything — even  gradual 
emancipation — to  insure  peace  and  security ;  but 
they  lived  in  constant  dread  of  guerrilla  venge 
ance,  while  at  the  same  time  they  were  threatened 
with  Federal  confiscation.  The  less  a  man  had  at 
-stake,  the  longer  he  held  out. 

That  which  was  most  trying  to  a  man's  patience 
was  the  senseless  babble  about  Northern  amalga 
mation  and  negro  equality.  There  did  not  exist 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  a  community  where  open, 
shameless  amalgamation  was  practiced  to  a  greater 
extent  than  in  the  Cotton  States.  There  was  not  a 
plantation  in  the  South  but  bore  witness  to  the 
truth  of  this  charge.  The  son  of  the  planter,  if  at 


288  THE    LATE    WAR. 

all  curious  upon  the  subject  of  relationship,  could 
generally  find  half-brothers  and  sisters  among  his 
father's  chattels  ;  and  by  the  time  the  "young  mas 
ter"  attained  his  twentieth  year  he  was  pretty  sure  to 
have  contributed  something  towards  the  universal 
bleaching  out  of  the  ultra-Ethiopian  features  from 
the  faces  of  the  next  generation  of  slaves.  Bachelor 
planters  lived  openly  with  black  and  parti-colored 
paramours,  in  defiance  of  public  opinion,  if  there 
was  any  public  opinion  to  defy.  If  married,  it  was 
the  same  thing,  only,  in  deference  to  the  unreason 
able  scruples  of  his  white  wife,  the  concubine  was 
sometimes  kept  out  of  the  house,  and  supported  in  a 
state  of  almost  regal  splendor  at  another  plantation. 
Merchant  princes,  law-givers,  statesmen,  and  the 
high  dignitaries  of  the  land  had  their  little  weak 
nesses  in  the  same  direction.  The  most  alarming 
features  in  this  state  of  affairs  was  the  countenance  it 
received  from  society.  There  was  no  outcry,  but  all 
was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  press  and 
the  pulpit  ignored  the  facts,  however  notorious  ; 
and  the  courts  were  never  troubled  with  divorce 
cases  in  consequence.  In  the  North,  if  a  man 
lived  openly  with  a  black  woman,  no  respectable 
white  woman  would  look  at  him,  much  less  speak 
to  him  ;  but  in  the  South,  a  young  blood  would 
come  from  the  embraces  of  a  saddle-colored  mis 
tress  to  the  parlor  or  ball-room,  and  was  received 
with  smiles  by  the  elite  of  Southern  society. 

There  existed  throughout  the  South,  more  par 
ticularly  in  Louisiana,  a  class  of  people  known  as 
Creoles.  The  word  Creole,  comes  from  the  Spanish 


THE    LATE    WAR.  289 

crotts — a  native — and  is  properly  applied  to  the  na 
tive-born  "foreign"  population.  For  instance,  a 
child  born  of  French  parents  in  Louisiana,  will  be 
a  Creole  Frenchman.  If  the  parents  were  Spanish, 
a  Creole  Spaniard,  etc.  It  was  also  applied  to  na 
tive  articles  of  produce,  as  Creole  butter,  Creole 
eggs,  Creole  hay,  etc.  But  in  the  North  a  Creole 
was  generally  understood  to  be  a  person  of  mixed 
blood.  This  was  not  so  far  out  of  the  .way,  as 
matters  stood,  for  every  mongrel  negro,  who  man 
aged  to  get  hold  of  money  or  property,  called  him 
self  or  herself  a  Creole,  and  society,  ever  complai 
sant  and  charitable  when  humbug  is  backed  by 
brass  and  gold,  winked  at  the  deception  which  de 
ceived  nobody,  and  the  negro  chrysalis  straight 
way  became  a  Creole  butterfly.  Many  of  the  early 
Spanish  settlers,  their  own  "blue-blood"  of  Cas 
tile,  impoverished  by  the  admixture  of  the  viler 
Morisco  current,  amalgamated  with  their  slaves. 
The  law  of  Louisiana  did  not  recognize  such  a 
thing  as  an  "  illegitimate  child,"  and  the  Spanish 
planter,  dying  intestate,  the  fruits  of  his  black 
amours — a  mixture  of  Spanish,  Moorish,  and  negro 
blood — came  in  for  a  full  share  of  the  estate,  and 
they  and  their  children  became  Creoles.  A  planter 
lives  for  years  with  a  mulatto  or  a  quadroon,  and, 
on  dying,  bequeaths  to  her  free  papers  and  a  hand 
some  fortune.  She  ceases  to  be  a  negro,  and  grad 
ually  becomes  a  Creole.  These  Creoles,  by  grace, 
as  all  mongrel  races  are,  are  cruel,  cowardly  and 
treacherous,  and  when  owning  slaves  themselves, 
are  the  most  inhuman  masters  or  mistresses.  No 
19 


290  THE    LATE    WAR. 

conception  of  avarice  and  meanness  could  be 
formed  until  a  sugar  or  cotton  plantation,  owned 
by  one  of  these  spurious  Creoles,  had  been  visited. 

The  real  Creole  is  a  different  creature.  He  is 
gay,  gallant,  avaricious,  and  shrewd  in  driving  a 
bargain,  neat  arid  cleanly  in  personal  appearance 
—brave  for  the  time,  but  incapable  of  the  heroism 
oi  endurance — sociable,  when  it  costs  him  noth 
ing — making  a  great  show  of  hospitality  and  prac 
ticing  little — knowing  little,  and  caring  less  for 
public  affairs — a  rebel  or  loyal  citizen,  just  as  in 
terest  dictated — holding  allegiance  first  to  France, 
next  to  the  State,  and  not  caring  a  cent  either  for 
the  United  States  or  Confederate  States.  He  is  a 
Creole — nothing  more.  A  Creole  can  live  upon  less, 
.and  make  a  better  show  than  anybody  else.  He 
can  get  the  better  of  a  Yankee  clock  peddler  in  a 
trade,  and  teach  a  Wethersfield  onion-raiser  prac 
tical  lessons  in  economy. 

Southern  bravery  has  been  greatly  overrated, 
even  in  the  North.  The  men  of  the  South — those 
whose  blood  has  not  been  tainted  with  Moor,  In 
dian,  or  negro — faced  death  as  readily  as  those  of 
the  North,  but  they  had  not  the  same  power  of  en 
durance.  They  cried  constantly,  "You  can  never 
subdue  us,"  and  yet  I  never  saw  a  people  so  easily 
subdued.  Put  one  of  them  in  a  tight  place,  and 
all  manliness  forsakes  him.  It  is  true  the  South 
has  been  the  theater  of  many  desperate  deeds,  but 
these  usually  took  the  form  of  cold-blooded  as 
sassinations.  A  Southern  "gentleman,"  whose 
wealth  and  position  stand  between  him  and  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  29! 

law,  is  wronged,  or  thinks  he  is  wronged,  by  an 
other,  not  his  equal  in  standing.  He  coldly  calcu 
lates  his  chances,  and  if  he  can  make  out  a  good 
case,  decides  on  "  satisfaction."  With  nine  buck 
shot  in  each  barrel  of  his  heavy  deer-gun,  a  brace 
of  derringers  in  his  pocket,  and  a  bowie-knife 
buckled  around  his  waist,  he  meets  his  victim,  per 
haps  unarmed  and  suspecting  nothing.  He  cries, 
"Defend  yourself,"  and  immediately  discharges 
both  barrels,  in  quick  succession,  into  the  body  of 
his  adversary.  By  telling  the  victim  to  defend 
"himself,"  even  though  he  might  be  unarmed, 
and  the  roar  of  the  shot-gun  blends  with  the  last 
word  of  the  sentence,  the  affair  is  divested  of  the 
character  of  assassination,  and  rendered  perfectly 
honorable  in  Southern  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BATON  ROUGE  is  one  of  the  prettiest  places  in  the 
South.  It  contained  three  or  four  or  five  thousand 
inhabitants.  The  streets  were  pleasantly  shaded 
with  live  oak,  box  and  China  trees,  and  the  gar 
dens  were  tastefully  decorated  with  flowers  and 
flowering  shrubs.  The  capitol,  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  a  fine-looking,  showy  building,  but  like  a 
great  many  other  Southern  institutions,  on  close  in 
spection,  proved  to  be  a  sham.  The  grounds  were 
elegant  and  well  kept.  The  city  boasted  of  bar- 


292  THE    I. ATE    WAR. 

racks  and  arsenals,  built  by  the  United  States,  a 
fine-looking  college  of  some  sort,  and  a  peniten 
tiary,  which  was  not  as  well  patronized  as  it  ought 
to  have  been.  The  morals  of  Baton  Rouge  were 
particularly  rigid  in  outward  appearance,  but  prob 
ably  about  as  lax  beneath  the  surface  as  those  of 
Washington. 

General  Williams  went  up  the  river,  taking  with 
him  all  the  troops  except  the  Twenty-first  Indiana 
and  Sixth  Michigan,  and  left  Colonel  McMillan  in 
command  of  the  post. 

Towards  the  middle  of  July,  Colonel  Keith, with 

detachment  of  forty  mounted  men,  penetrated 
ome  thirty  miles  into  the  enemy's  country,  smoked 
out  a  guerilla  camp  of  eighty  or  an  hundred  men, 
surprised  them  and  captured  all  their  equipage, 
horses,  and  killed  a  number  in  the  affair.  Return 
ing  at  night,  Colonel  Keith's  party  were  them 
selves  waylaid  at  a  bridge  over  the  Amite  river ; 
lost  two  soldiers  and  a  negro  guide,  while  a  num 
ber  of  others  were  wounded. 

Cassell,  the  leader  of  the  guerillas  in  that  part 
of  the  State,  was  captured,  together  with  two  of  his 
officers.  From  a  friendly  contraband,  some  of  our 
troops  learned  that  the  guerilla  chief  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  his  plantation  near  the  city,  and 
by  concealing  themselves  about  the  place,  his  cap 
ture  was  effected.  He  was  forwarded  to  New  Or 
leans  to  be  dealt  with  by  General  Butler.  If  ever  a 
scoundrel  deserved  hanging,  it  was  this  man,  Cas 
sell.  He  brought  great  trouble  on  the  people  of 
this  place  (Baton  Rouge.)  When  the  Federal 


THE    LATE    WAR.  293 

fleet  made  its  appearance  in  front  of  the  city,  and 
a  boat  was  sent  ashore  to  treat  for  its  surrender, 
Cassell,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  mounted  ma 
rauders,  galloped  down  to  the  water's  edge  and 
fired  on  the  boat,  killing  some  and  wounding 
others.  This,  of  course,  drew  the  fire  of  the  gun 
boats  on  the  city,  and  broadside  after  broadside 
was  fired  up  the  streets,  into  the  principal  build 
ings  and  away  over  the  town  into  the  woods, 
among  the  crowds  of  flying  citizens. 

Cassell  had  given  no  notice  of  his  intention  to 
provoke  hostilities,  and  the  town  was  full  of  non- 
combatant  citizens,  women  and  children.  A  ter 
rible  panic  ensued.  The  halt,  the  lame,  the  blind, 
frail  women  and  children,  and  half-frantic  negroes, 
joined  in  a  hurried  flight  to  the  woods.  Some  died 
in  the  streets  of  pure  fright,  and  children  were 
prematurely  born  in  the  adjoining  fields,  amid  the 
roar  of  artillery  and  the  bursting  of  shells.  Ne 
groes  at  work  in  cane  or  corn-fields  two  or  three 
miles  back  of  town,  were  startled  by  the  dropping 
of  the  hissing  globes  among  them,  and  fled  in  dis 
may,  firmly  believing  the  end  of  the  world  was  at 
hand.  For  days,  little  children,  separated  from 
their  parents,  roamed  through  the  woods,  half- 
starved,  nearly  eaten  up  by  mosquitoes,  and  frantic 
with  terror.  For  all  this,  Cassell  was  responsible, 
and  richly  deserved  to  be  hung. 

Notwithstanding  the  stringent  orders  against 
harboring  contrabands,  quite  a  number  wormed 
themselves  into  our  camp,  and  were  employed  as 
cooks  and  servants.  Some  of  them  gave  us  val 


294  THE    LATE    WAR. 

uable  information,  and  it  would  not  only  have  been 
cruel,  but  ungrateful  to  have  turned  them  over  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  the  rebels. 

There  was  a  great  deal  more  cotton  in  the  coun 
try  than  was  at  first  supposed.  Much  was  burned, 
but  large  quantities,  stowed  away  in  secret  places 
by  the  owners,  came  to  light. 

Gen. somebody  or  other,  I  forget  who, 

was  reported,  on  good  authority,  as  advancing  on 
Baton  Rouge,  with  a  mongrel  horde  of  from  five  to 
seven  thousand  men.  Col.  McMillan  had  a  force 
of  seven  hundred  contrabands  felling  trees  on  the 
spot  of  wooded  ground  southwest  of  the  peniten 
tiary,  and  thus  prepared  for  the  reception  of  our 
distinguished  visitor. 

There  had  been  a  cry  of  "  wolf,  wolf,"  until  the 
belief  among  our  boys  was  pretty  general  that  the 
wolf  was  only  a  sheep,  and  a  very  shabby  one  at 
that.  But  by  the  time  we  had  gotten  through  with 
him,  we  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  a 
"  right  smart "  wolf  after  all.  The  enemy  came 
in  from  the  direction  of  Camp  Moore,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  5th  of  August,  1862,  and  encountered 
our  pickets  a  mile  out  on  the  Greenville  Springs 
road,  about  three  o'clock  a.  m.  There  they  halted 
and  made  their  dispositions  for  the  attack.  Just  at 
daylight  they  advanced  in  three  divisions,  one  by 
the  Bayou  Sara  road,  one  by  the  Greenville  Springs 
road,  and  one  by  the  Perkins,  or  Claggut  road. 
The  attack  was  planned  with  skill,  and  carried  out 
with  great  spirit,  the  rebel  regiments  charging  with 
shouts  and  cheers  right  up  to  our  batteries.  On 


THE    LATE    WAR.'  295 

our  side  the  Twenty-first  Indiana,  the  Sixth  Mich 
igan,  and  the  Thirtieth  Massachusetts,  did  the 
lighting.  The  Fourteenth  Maine  broke  and  ran  at 
the  first  fire,  and  never  re-formed.  A  few  of  their 
number  fell  in  with  our  regiment,  and  fought  well. 

The  Fourth  Wisconsin  and  Ninth  Connecticut 
were  not  under  fire.  The  Seventh  Vermont  did 
excellent  service  for  the  enemv,  in  the  way  of  fir 
ing  into  our  regiment  from  the  rear,  by  which  we 
lost  a  number  of  men.  Manning's  battery,  Ever 
ett's  battery,  Nim's  battery,  and  our  own  mule 
battery,  did  excellent  service.  So  much  by  way 
of  a  summary. 

Our  regiment  was  stationed  in  the  center,  about 
a  mile  from  town,  on  the  Greenville  Springs  road, 
with  the  Fourteenth  Maine  on  our  left,  and  the 
Sixth  Michigan  on  our  right.  When  it  became 
•evident  that  an  attack  was  imminent,  our  regi 
ment,  Lieut.  Col.  John  A.  Keith  in  command,  was 
marched  out  on  the  Greenville  Springs  road  about 
six  hundred  yards,  and  took  up  position  behind  a 
rail  fence,  thickly  covered  with  a  growth  of  Cher 
okee  rose,  enclosing  a  corn-field  on  the  right  of 
the  road,  with  an  open  field  and  the  cemetery  in 
the  rear.  The  whole  surface  of  the  country  was 
covered  with  a  dense  fog,  through  which  it  was 
impossible  to  observe  anything  at  the  distance  of  a 
few  rods.  We  had  taken  position  behind  the  fence 
but  a  few  moments,  when  a  rebel  force  was  heard 
advancing  on  our  right,  having  marched  across 
from  the  Claggut  road.  In  the  meantime  a  rebel 
force  had  stealthily  approached  through  the  corn- 


296  THE    LATE    WAR. 

field  in  our  front,  and  were  in  the  act  of  crossing- 

& 

the  fence  not  fifteen  paces  in  front,  when  we  gave 
them  a  deadly  volley,  which  had  the  effect  of  driv 
ing  them  back  in  confusion,  leaving  the  field  cov 
ered  with  their  dead  and  wounded.  At  the  same 
time  we  were  fired  into  from  the  right  flank,  and 
the  sound  of  heavy  and  continuous  firing  on  our 
left,  in  the  direction  of  the  Bayou  Sara  road,  indi 
cated  that  we  were  in  danger  of  being  flanked 
there.  Col.  Keith  ordered  the  regiment  to  fall 
back,  which  it  did,  and  again  formed  in  line  of 
battle  in  the  rear  of  the  cemetery,  the  men  lying 
flat  upon  their  faces.  At  this  time  a  portion  of  the 
Michigan  Sixth,  which  had  abandoned  their  posi 
tion  on  the  Claggut  road,  came  up  and  formed  on 
our  right.  At  this  point  I  first  saw  Gen.  Williams, 
who  rode  along  the  line,  exhorting  the  men  to 
stand  firm  and  do  their  duty. 

The  enemy,  advancing  through  the  grave-yardT 
delivered  a  volley  which  passed  over  us.  We  then 
rose  from  the  ground  and  fired  with  deadly  effect. 
At  the  same  time,  the  Michigan  men  became  en 
gaged  on  our  right,  and  did  excellent  service  ;  but 
the  force  on  our  right,  engaged  in  the  flanking 
movement,  was  too  heavy,  and,  by  an  oblique  fire, 
again  caused  a  retrograde  movement.  By  this  ob 
lique  fire,  Lieutenant  Charles  D.  Seely,  of  Com 
pany  A,  was  killed.  He  was  a  brave  and  gallant 
officer,  and  was  shot  through  the  heart  while  at  the 
head  of  his  company.  He  fell  forward  on  his  face, 
and  at  the  same  moment,  his  orderly  sergeant,. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  29^ 

John  A.  Bevington,was  shot  through  the  head  and 
fell  across  his  feet. 

Retreating  through  our  camp  in  column  of  com 
panies,  the  left  in  front,  we  again  formed  in  line 
along  the  street  at  the  upper  end  of  the  camp, 
when  a  regiment  was  seen  advancing  in  column  at. 
double  quick,  considerably  in  advance  of  us,  on 
the  right,  along  the  opposite  street.  Through  the 
dust  and  fog,  we  could  not  distinguish  them,  and 
Colonel  Keith  rode  half  way  across  the  space  be 
tween  and  hailed  —  "What  troops  are  those?" 
"  Secesh  as  h — 11,"  was  the  answer,  followed  by  a 
volley  from  our  regiment  which  left  the  road  piled 
with  their  dead.  A  volley  from  at  least  two  thou 
sand  pieces  was  then  fired  upon  us  from  the  rear,  the 
part  of  which,  fortunately,  passed  over  our  heads. 
We  then  retreated  down  the  street  under  a  heavy 
fire,  counter-marched  and  came  up  the  next  street, 
and  formed  in  line  on  our  parade  grounds,  where 
the  heaviest  fighting  took  place.  During  this  re 
treat,  we  were  fired  into  by  the  Seventh  Vermont. 

The  enemy,  in  the  meantime,  had  taken  posses 
sion  of  our  camp,  and  burned  the  tents  about  half 
way  up  the  line.  Two  regiments  were  drawn  up 
to  oppose  us  in  the  woods  between  our  camp  and 
the  parade  ground,  while  on  our  left  flank  a  com 
pany  of  sharpshooters,  armed  with  Colt's  revolving 
rifles,  were  picking  off  our  officers.  After  the  in 
terchange  of  several  volleys,  by  a  brilliant  charge, 
assisted  by  a  portion  of  the  Thirtieth  Massachu 
setts,  which  came  opportunely  to  our  aid,  our  regi 
ment  drove  the  enemy  pell-mell  through  the  woods 


THE    LATE    WAR. 


and  entirely  out  of  our  camp,  saving  just  half  of  it 
from  pillage  and  burning.  In  this  last  contest, 
Gen.  Williams  and  M.  A.  Latham,  our  adjutant, 
were  killed,  and  Col.  Keith  severely  wounded. 

Write  nothing  but  good  of  the  dead.  I  have 
nothing  to  retract  that  I  have  written  of  Gen.  Wil 
liams,  except  such  charges  as  impugn  his  courage. 
He  was  as  brave  a  man  as  ever  lived,  and  died 
cheering  us  on  to  victory.  Just  before  he  received 
the  fatal  shot,  he  apologized  to  Col.  Keith  for  his 
treatment  of  our  regiment,  and  paid  it  the  highest 
compliment  for  bravery  and  coolness  in  action. 
But  Gen.  Williams  lacked  the  qualifications  of  a 
commander. 

"The  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,"  Matthew  A. 
Latham,  of  Cincinnati,  was  the  beau  ideal  of  a  sol 
dier,  and  a  man  without  the  slightest  conception  of 
fear.  There  was  scarcely  a  brigadier  general  in 
the  army  possessing  the  qualifications  of  this  man, 
filling  the  humble  position  of  adjutant.  He  fell 
from  his  horse,  pierced  with  four  balls  in  his  body, 
and  a  grape  shot,  which  struck  him  just  under  his 
nose,  passing  entirely  through,  and  making  a  hor 
rible  wound.  And  yet,  with  all  these  wounds,  he 
rose  from  the  ground  and  walked  twenty  or  thirty 
paces,  until  death  overcame  him,  and  his  gallant 
spirit  took  its  flight.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  social 
instincts,  and  shrewd,  common  sense,  as  well  as 
military  qualifications.  A  strict  disciplinarian,  and 
a  terror  to  all  violators  of  military  law  ;  he  still  en 
joyed  the  universal  confidence  and  esteem  of  both 
officers  and  men.  God  keep  the  memory  of  this 


THE    LATE    WAR.  299 

gallant,  warm-hearted  Irishman  forever  green  in 
our  hearts  ! 

Another  gallant  soldier  and  noble  officer,  Major 
Hays,  was  wounded  severely  early  in  the  action, 
and  had  to  be  carried  from  the  field. 

Colonel  McMillan,  not  having  recovered  from 
his  wounds,  was  unable  to  take  command.  He 
rode  out  on  the  field,  but  was  compelled,  through 
.sheer  exhaustion,  to  return. 

Colonel  Keith  manifested  the  utmost  bravery  and 
coolness  until  wounded.  He  was  wounded  se 
verely  in  the  shoulder  and  slightly  on  the  chin. 

After  Colonel  Keith  and  Major  Hays  were 
wounded,  Captain  Roy  being  sick,  the  command 
•of  the  regiment  devolved  on  Captain  James  Grims- 
ley.  The  captain  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  and  as 
cool  as  a  cucumber.  Although  wounded  himself, 
after  having  the  wound  dressed,  he  took  command 
of  the  regiment. 

O 

The  different  batteries  of  artillery,  our  own  mule 
battery  among  the  number,  did  excellent  service. 
They  poured  in  destructive  charges  of  canister  and 
grape  at  ranges  in  distances  less  than  thirty  yards. 
Many  of  the  men  supporting  the  batteries  were 
wounded  with  buckshot.  . 

From  wounded  prisoners  I  learned  that  the  force 
of  the  enemy  consisted  of  twelve  regiments,  num 
bering  from  five  to  seven  thousand,  under  the  com 
mand  of  Breckinridge,  Clarke  and  Ruggles.  They 
wrere  Kentuckians,  Mississippians  and  Louisian- 
ians,  the  most  of  them  armed  with  Springfield  and 


3°O  THE    LATE    WAR. 

Enfield  rifles.     They  expected  assistance  from  the 
ram  Arkansas,  afterwards  sunk  by  the  Essex. 

Our  regiment  went  into  action  less  than  five  hun 
dred  strong,  and  lost  in  killed  and  wounded  126 — 
26  killed,  98  wounded  and  four  missing.  This  was 
pretty  heavy  for  a  two-hours'  engagement,  and  I 
think  much  heavier  than  any  other  regiment  en 
gaged.  The  loss  of  the  enemy  was  generally  put 
down  as  three  times  as  great  as  our  own,  though  I 
think  that  statement  a  little  exaggerated. 

The  regiments  opposed  to  us  were  all  veterans, 
who  had  fought  at  Shiloh  and  other  battle-fields. 
They  frequently  exchanged  volleys  with  us  at  a 
distance  of  thirty  paces. 

The  gunboats  could  do  but  little  in  "the  fight  on 
the  5th.  The  battle-field  was  so  far  from  the  river 
they  could  not  fire  without  danger  of  doing  more 
harm  than  good.  But  when  the  enemy  were  driven 
back,  the  gunboats  threw  shells  over  the  town  into 
their  midst.  A  sentinel  on  one  of  the  State  house 
turrets,  with  a  glass,  signalled  to  the  boats  the  di 
rection,  distance  and  range  of  the  enemy,  and 
some  of  the  shots  thus  made  were  said  to  be  very 
fine. 

Of  the  rebel  army,  General  Clark,  Colonel  Al 
len,  and  Captain  Frepannier  were  said  to  have 
been  mortally  wounded.  The  town  was  full  of 
wounded  rebels  in  private  houses,  besides  those  in 
our  own  hospitals. 

For  days  after  the  battle,  all  our  information 
pointed  to  a  renewal  of  the  fight  on  the  part  of  the 
rebels,  with  heavy  reinforcements.  There  was 


THE    LATE    WAR.  30 1 

something  going  on  above  that  we  did  not  ex 
actly  understand.  Whether  Vicksburg  had  been 
evacuated,  or  the  attempt  to  reduce  it  abandoned 
by  the  Federal  troops,  we  could  not  say,  but  our 
leaders  were  satisfied  that  Van  Dorn  had  rein 
forced  Breckenridge  since  the  fight,  and  that  they 
were  determined  to  see  if  they  could  not  improve 
on  their  attempt  of  the  5th  of  August. 

After  the  death  of  General  Williams,  Col.  Payne, 
of  the  Fourth  Wisconsin,  was  in  command  of  the 
post.  Col.  Payne  possessed  the  entire  confidence 
of  the  command. 

Our  lines  were  drawn  in,  and  the  entire  force 
massed  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  old  United  States 
barracks.  With  a  force  of  nearly  a  thousand  con 
trabands,  we  fortified  our  position,  threw  up  breast 
works,  dug  rifle  pits,  and  cleared  away  obstructions 
in  the  way  of  our  fire.  At  night  our  boys  pitched 
into  the  work  themselves,  and  worked  like  beavers 
until  after  midnight.  Looking  at  the  magnitude  of 
the  works,  it  seemed  like  an  absolute  impossibility 
that  so  much  could  have  been  accomplished  in  less 
than  twenty-four  hours.  But  everybody  was  ex 
pecting  an  attack  before  morning,  and  both  con 
trabands  and  soldiers  worked  hard.  All  night 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  sound  of  the  pick  and 
shovel,  and  the  dull,  heavy  "thud"  of  the  pack 
ing  mules,  beating  down  the  loose  earth.  About 
two  o'clock  our  pickets  were  fired  on,  and  the 
whole  force  repaired  to  the  trenches,  where  they 
remained  until  breakfast  time  without  seeing  any 
thing  of  the  foe. 


3O2  THE    LATE    WAR. 

I  was  an  officer  of  the  guard  the  night  before  the 
fight.  When  our  pickets  were  driven  in,  and  it 
became  evident  the  enemy  was  advancing  in  force, 
the  guard,  which  was  a  tolerably  heavy  one,  was- 
marched  out  with  the  battalion.  After  the  first  fire 
the  guards  were  ordered  to  join  their  several  com 
panies.  Not  particularly  fancying  the  idea  of  be 
ing  shot  at,  with  no  means  of  offensive  operations 
save  and  except  a  sword  as  guiltless  of  edge  as  a 
crowbar,  I  borrowed  a  gun  from  a  wounded  man, 
and  fell  in  with  Capt.  Jim  Grimsley's  company,  my 
own  company  having  been  detached  from  the  bat 
talion  to  support  a  section  of  Everett's  battery,  in 
another  part  of  the  field. 

Captain  Grimsley's  company  having  its  full  com 
plements  of  lieutenants  in  the  field,  I  was  left,  in  a 
measure,  free  to  take  notes  and  watch  for  an  op 
portunity  to  "plug"  a  "reb."  I  heard  a  deal  of 
noise,  and  occasionally  got  a  glimpse  of  a  "but 
ternut"  among  the  corn,  but  the  fog  was  so  dense, 
and  the  smoke  so  thick  that  I  could  not  draw  a 
satisfactory  "bead."  Finally,  a. regiment  of  the 
enemy,  somewhat  out  of  latitude,  was  seen  march 
ing  down  an  opposite  street,  a  little  in  advance  of 
us.  We  received  orders  to  fire,  and  I  succeeded 
in  covering  a  rather  "natty"  looking  officer, 
mounted  on  a  splendid  horse.  I  fired.  After  the 
smoke  cleared  away,  a  riderless  horse  was  seen 
galloping  madly  down  the  street,  and  I  was  in 
clined  to  think  there  was  room  for  promotion 
among  the  staff  officers  of  that  battalion. 

The  enemy  were  most  splendidly  armed  with 


THE    LATE    WAR.  303 

Enfield  and  Minnie  rifles,  throwing  balls  of  Eng 
lish  manufacture,  with  the  box-wood  plug  in  the 
base.  The  passage  of  these  balls  close  to  one's 
head  was  followed  by  the  most  infernal  hissing 
sound  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  Sometimes  they 
seemed  to  me  to  be  endowed  with  vitality,  and 
possessed  of  the  most  fiendish  spirit  of  vindictive- 
ness.  Then  again  they  reminded  me  of  geese  fol 
lowing  you  in  the  road — not  dangerous,  but  exas 
perating. 

But  the  most  singular  thing,  and  one  which  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  heard  mentioned  heretofore,  was 
the  effect  of  these  balls  upon  the  atmosphere  through 
which  they  passed.  The  passage  of  one  immedi 
ately  across  your  face  was  followed  by  a  momen 
tary  sensation  of  deathly  sickness.  The  air  seemed 
thick,  stifling  and  putrid,  like  that  of  a  newly- 
opened  vault,  accompanied  by  an  odor  of  certain 
kinds  of  fungii  found  in  the  woods,  and  never  will 
ingly  disturbed  by  either  man  or  beast.  J  should 
like  to  know  if  any  one  else  has  felt  this,  or  if  it 
was  a  peculiar  fancy  of  my  own. 

The  rebels  were  provided  with  percussion  shells, 
fashioned  like  those  used  in  our  rifle  cannon.  It 
was  supposed  that  they  were  intended  for  explod 
ing  caissons. 


304  THE    LATE    WAR. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FROM  the  time  they  left  Camp  Moore,  the  rebels 
-were  subsisted  by  private  contributions  from  citi 
zens  along  the  way.  Wagon  loads  of  provisions 
were  hauled  for  miles  on  either  side  of  the  road. 
Yet  many  of  them  got  nothing.  The  haversacks 
of  a  number  of  those  left  dead  on  the  field  were 
filled  with  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  food ;  bis 
cuits,  "  pones  "  of  corn  bread,  fried  chicken,  cakes 
of  clabber-cheese,  etc.  In  the  lower  edge  of  our 
camp  I  found  a  large,  fine-looking  rebel,  with  an 
intelligent  countenance,  and  a  fine,  silky  beard, 
lying  flat  on  his  back  with  his  arms  thrown  out, 
and  a  rifle  shot  through  his  neck,  just  under  the 
ears.  In  coming  through  the  camp  of  the  Four 
teenth  Maine  he  had  secured  a  loaf  of  soft  bread, 
and  thrust  it  into  his  bosom.  I  have  no  doubt  he 
was  hungry,  and  the  loaf  bore  marks  of  his  fin 
gers  where  he  had  pinched  off  and  eaten  mouth- 
fulls  during  the  heat  of  battle.  There  are  times 
when,  in  contemplation  of  the  most  trivial  things, 
the  strongest  man  will  be  overcome  with  the  weak 
ness  of  a  child.  I  had  just  passed  a  rebel,  torn  to 
shreds  with  a  twelve-pound  shell,  and  lying  a 
bloody,  loathsome,  and  shapeless  mass,  without  a 
shudder ;  and  yet  the  sight  of  this  poor  devil,  with 
his  nibbled  loaf,  almost  unmanned  me. 

During  the  hottest  of  the  fight,  I  came  upon  a 


THE    LATE    WAR.  305 

woolly  head,  deployed  as  skirmisher,  and  with  the 
muzzle  of  an  Enfield  protruding  from  behind  a 
large  magnolia  tree.  He  fired  just  as  we  filed  past, 
and  rolled  over  on  his  back  to  reload.  "  What  the 
d — 1  are  you  doing  there?  "  said  I.  "  O,  nothing 
sah  ;  only  doin'  a  little  -picketm"1  "  was  the  answer,, 
with  the  utmost  sang  froid. 

A  most  dastardly  attempt  was  made  to  assassin 
ate  Col.  Dudley,  of  the  Thirtieth  Massachusetts, 
on  the  night  of  the  battle.  He  was  giving  instruc 
tions  to  some  of  our  sentinels,  when  he  was  fired 
upon  from  one  of  the  houses  with  an  air  gun,  the 
ball  passing  close  to  his  head. 

We  had  a  drummer  boy  with  us,  who  had  the 
most  remarkable  faculty  of  getting  into  scrapes, 
and  the  most  remarkable  luck  in  getting  out  of 
them.  On  the  day  of  the  fight,  Charley,  in  com 
pany  with  another  drummer,  got  a  gun  and  started 
out  on  his  own  hook.  With  his  usual  brilliant 
strategy,  Charley  managed  to  insinuate  himself  be 
tween  ours  and  a  Confederate  regiment,  and  had 
quite  a  lively  time  in  "  changing  front,"  as  the 
storm  of  bullets  might  be  coming  from  one  side  or 
the  other.  In  the  meantime,  Charley  and  his  com 
rade  managed  to  get  in  a  few  shots  edgewise,  and 
finally  escaped  unhurt.  The  most  amusing  thing 
was  Charley's  description  of  the  sickly  sort  of 
laugh  with  which  he  and  his  comrade  tried  to  keep 
up  each  other's  spirits. 

After  the  fight  was  over,  Charley  went  back  to 
camp  to  see  about  his  "  traps,"  and  managed  to  be 

20 


THE    LATE    WAR. 

taken  prisoner.  A  Confederate  lieutenant  cate 
chised  him  after  the  following  manner  : 

Lieutenant — You  d — d  little  cuss,  what  the  — 
are  you  after  here? 

Charley — I  want  my  knapsack. 

Lieutenant — How  many  of  you  d — d  Yankees 
.are  there? 

Charley — I  don't  know. 

Lieutenant — You  have  an  idea  ;  guess. 

Charley — Between  ten  and  twelve  thousand. 

Lieutenant — Don't  lie  to  me,  you  little  rascal, 
'(drawing  a  revolver)  I'll  shoot  you  in  a  minute. 
Now  tell  me  the  truth. 

Charley — I  really  don't  know.  (After  a  pause.) 
.How  many  men  have  you? 

The  rebel  looked  for  a  moment  as  if  this  was  too 
much  for  human  nature  to  bear.  Then  he  faced 
•Charles  about,  gave  him  a  tremendous  kick  in  the 
rear,  and  told  him  to  "  git." 

The  Yankees  were  jealous  of  the  part  taken  by 
an  Indiana  regiment  in  the  fight,  and  ashamed  of 
their  own.  Consequently,  every  cursed  "  Nutmeg," 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  persisted  in  mis 
representing  us.  General  Butler,  as  the  head  of 
the  New  England  Division,  felt  bound  to  favor  it 
as  much  as  possible.  At  the  same  time  I  do  him 
the  justice  to  say  that  he  did  not  misrepresent  us, 
except  by  implication.  He  only  did  us  injustice 
by  mentioning  us  in  the  same  connection  with  regi 
ments  who  eternally  disgraced  themselves,  and  the 
uniform  /they  wore.  The  New  Orleans  papers  were 
edited  by  Yankees.  One  of  them  stated  editorially 


THE    LATE    WAR.  307 

that  General  Williams  was  killed  while  trying  to 
rally  the  Twenty-first  regiment,  which  was  thrown 
into  dismay.  A  "  passenger"  from  Baton  Rouge 
(probably  a  Yankee  sutler,  running  away  from  the 
prospect  of  another  fight,)  informed  another  of  those 
Yankee  editors  that  General  Williams  was  killed 
while  cheering  on  our  men  to  retake  a  gun  which  they 
had  lost.  The  simple  facts  were  these :  General 
Williams,  after  denouncing  the  Fourteenth  Maine 
and  Seventh  Vermont  as  "sheep,"  publicly  com 
plimented  our  regiment  as  the  only  one  which  had 
not  been  broken  and  scattered.  At  one  time 
Brown's  mule  battery,  supported  by  Michigan 
troops,  was  compelled  to  abandon  one  gun,  the 
last  charge  of  canister  from  which  was  fired  at  a 
body  of  rebel  troops  not  twenty  -paces  distant;  but 
the  brave  Michigan  boys  soon  drove  the  enemy 
away,  and  gallant  Jim  Brown  saved  his  gun.  From 
this  gun  five  gunners  were  shot  down  at  one  fire. 
It  was  stationed  at  least  half  a  mile  from  where 
General  Williams  fell.  This  "passenger  from  Ba 
ton  Rouge"  failed  to  state,  while  on  the  subject 
of  guns,  that  Company  F,  of  the  Twenty-first  In 
diana,  three  times  manned  a  section  of  Everett's 
battery  from  its  own  ranks,  and  hauled  off  the  guns 
by  hand  when  the  horses  were  shot  down,  and  also 
that  Indianians  hauled  off  a  section  of  Manning's 
battery  by  hand  after  it  had  been  abandoned.  The 
honest  truth  was  just  this  :  The  Fourteenth  Maine 
broke  at  the  first  fire,  and  never  reformed.  They 
had  twenty-six  men  killed  and  seventy  or  eighty 
wounded,  without  firing  more  than  one  volley, 


3O8  THE    LATE    WAR. 

which  they  fired  in  the  air.  The  Confederates 
shot  them  down  as  we  used  to  shoot  rabbits  in  Illi 
nois. 

The  Seventh  Vermont  fired  into  us.  They  had 
a  few  men  killed  and  wounded  by  bullets  that  first 
passed  through  our  ranks.  When  ordered  to  move 
up  to  our  support,  they  failed  to  do  so,  and  many 
of  them  broke  and  ran  to  town.  While  the  Twen 
ty-first  Indiana,  the  Sixth  Michigan,  the  Thirtieth 
Massachusetts,  and  the  artillery  were  fighting  the 
battle,  a  lot  of  cowardly  wretches  were  down  in 
the  town  plundering  houses.  The  Fourth  Wis 
consin  and  Ninth  Connecticut  had  no  opportunity 
of  engaging  in  the  fight. 

Long  after  the  battle,  we  were  occupied,  work 
ing  in  the  trenches  in  the  day  time  and  sleeping  in 
the  trenches  at  night,  scouting,  picketing,  forag 
ing,  evacuating,  moving  and  re-moving.  After 
working  hard  and  faithfully  for  more  than  two 
weeks,  and  burning  down  a  part  of  the  town  to 
give  our  artillery  good  range,  Col.  Payne  had  just 
got  Baton  Rouge  in  a  defensible  position,  when 
the  order  came  from  New  Orleans  for  its  evacua 
tion.  The  Ocean  Queen,  a  large,  sea-going 
steamer,  took  on  four  regiments,  and  the  remain 
der  of  the  troops,  munitions  and  supplies,  were 
placed  on  different  river  transports,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  2Oth  of  August,  the  whole  fleet  set 
sail  down  the  river,  under  escort  of  the  gunboats, 
with  the  exception  of  the  iron-clad  Essex,  which 
remained  at  Baton  Rouge  to  prevent  the  rebels 
from  occupying  and  fortifying  the  town.  It  was  a 


THE    LATE    WAR.  309 

sad  and  yet  an  exciting  scene  to  see  that  long  string 
of  puffing  steamers,  crowded  with  soldiers,  creep 
ing  away  from  a  position  which  could  have  been 
maintained  at  all  hazards.  But  I  presume  the  men 
were  needed  more  elsewhere  than  there.  The 
morning  before  we  left  Baton  Rouge  a  consider 
able  force  of  rebel  cavalry  and  infantry,  probably 
under  the  impression  that  our  forces  had  been  al 
ready  withdrawal,  came  to  our  outposts  and  attacked 
•our  pickets.  Our  gunboats  opened  a  furious  fire, 
which  sent  them  back  in  the  direction  of  the 
Comite  a  little  faster  than  they  came.  (The  Com- 
ite  is  a  small  stream  ten  miles  back  of  the  city.) 

It  was  reported  that  one  shell  from  the  Missis 
sippi,  killed  seventeen  skedaddling  rebels.  The 
following  incident  is  vouched  for  :  A  Michigan  boy 
had  strayed  beyond  the  lines,  foraging  for  poultry. 
Four  mounted  rebels  came  out  of  a  cornfield  and 
fired  their  carbines  at  him.  Michigan  drew  up  his 
gun  and  shot  one  of  them  dead.  Then  fixing  his 
"bayonet,  he  charged  the  other  three,  and  put  them 
to  flight.  Our  first  landing  was  at  Camp  Parapet. 
This  camp  was  behind  an  immense  earthwork,  ex 
tending  some  two  or  three  miles  in  length,  back  to 
the  swamp,  thrown  up  by  the  rebels  against  an  in 
vasion  from  the  north.  Phelps,  with  a  force  of 
mixed  troops,  was  encamped.  We  pitched  our 
tents  in  a  cornfield,  where  the  mud  was  almost 
knee  deep,  and  stayed  there  two  or  three  days? 
during  which  our  Western  men  were  constantly 
•embroiled  with  negroes  and  "Nutmegs."  At 
Camp  Parapet,  I  saw  what  I  had  often  heard  of 


310  THE    LATE    WAR. 

but  never  expected  to  see — an  entire  regiment  of 
slaves,  regularly  organized  and  drilled — to  the 
best  of  their  ability. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  speculation  as  to 
whether  or  not  the  negro  would  fight.  I  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  that,  if  properly  disciplined,  they 
would  fight — perhaps  a  good  deal  better  than  some 
of  the  New  England  troops  did  in  the  affair  at 
Baton  Rouge.  It  would  not  have  been  healthy  for 
any  of  them  to  be  taken  prisoners.  But  fight  or 
no  fight,  a  negro  who  has  served  any  length  of 
time  as  a  soldier  will  prove  an  invaluable  acquisi 
tion  to  the  morals  of  a  sugar  plantation. 

After  the  death  of  General  Williams,  a  new  brig 
ade  was  formed,  composed  of  the  Twenty-first  In 
diana,  Fourth  Wisconsin,  and  Fourteenth  Maine, 
with  Colonel  Payne  as  acting  brigadier.  If  they 
had  given  us  the  Sixth  Michigan  in  the  place  of  the 
Fourteenth  Maine,  the  arrangement  would  have 
been  complete.  Although  the  Fourth  Wisconsin 
could,  by  seniority,  have  claimed  the  first  position, 
Colonel  Payne,  in  consideration  of  the  services  of 
the  Twentv-first,  gracefully  waived  the  claims  of 
his  regiment,  and  gave  us  the  right,  with  the  Wis 
consin  on  the  left,  and  the  Maine  in  the  center. 
Colonel  Payne  possessed  not  only  the  entire  confi 
dence,  but  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  the  Western 
men  of  the  department.  He  was  a  thorough  sol 
dier,  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  and  if  he  could 
only  have  sworn  a  little  once  in  a  while,  I  would 
have  considered  him  perfect. 

After  our  regiment  left  Algiers  and  went  to  Ba- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  311 

ton  Rouge,  the  guerillas  in  the  western  parishes 
and  along  the  banks  of  the  river  carried  matters 
with  a  high  hand.  A  Vermont  regiment,  which 
succeeded  us  at  Algiers,  proved  itself  totally  inca 
pable  of  dealing  with  them,  having  had  its  scouting 
parties  repeatedly  drawn  into  ambush  and  severely 
cut  up.  At  one  time  two  whole  companies,  with 
artillery,  were  captured,  and  a  day  after,  a  party 
sent  out  to  learn  their  fate  was  drawn  into  ambush 
and  nearly  annihilated.  A  party  from  our  regi 
ment  went  out,  drove  the  guerillas  from  their 
camp,  and  re-captured  a  large  number  of  Vermont 
wounded  men. 

On  a  Sunday,  having  heard  of  a  large  force  of 
infantry,  cavalry  and  artillery  up  the  river,  in  com 
pany  with  detachments  from  the  Fourteenth  Maine, 
Fourth  Wisconsin  and  Ninth  Connecticut,  and  the 
sloop-of-war  Mississippi,  about  four  hundred  of  our 
regiment  started  after  them,  on  the  steamers  Morn 
ing  Light,  St.  Maurice,  Laurel  Hill  and  General 
Williams  (late  Burton.)  When  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  Red  Church,  we  accidentally  stumbled 
on  Waller's  battalion  of  Texas  cavalry.  One-half 
of  our  force  was  landed  below  and  the  remainder 
above,  and  scattered  in  detachments  ;  we  began 
beating  up  the  cane  and  rice-fields  to  set  the  game 
afoot.  The  division  that  I  was  with  marched  back 
toward  the  swamp  through  the  rice-fields,  and  took 
position  in  ambush  in  a  narrow  lane,  the  fences  oj 
which  were  overgrown  with  high  weeds.  We  had 

c?  O 

been  there  but  a  few  moments,  with  skirmishers 
thrown  out  well  towards  the  swamp,  when  we 


312  THE    LATE    WAR. 

heard  a  rattling  volley  from  the  rest  of  our  regi 
ment,  between  us  and  the  river.  The  volley  was 
occasioned  in  this  manner :  A  man  named  Doug 
las,  of  Company  G,  had  straggled  from  the  detach 
ment,  and  was  pursued  by  the  mounted  Texans 
with  fierce  shouts.  Poor  Douglas  was  making 
wonderful  time,  but  it  was  not  in  nature  for  a  man 
to  outrun  a  horse,  and  consequently  his  pursuers 
were  gaining  upon  him  rapidly,  and  were  brand 
ishing  their  long,  heavy,  heathenish  knives,  in  an 
ticipation  of  soon  bagging  him,  when  suddenly 
companies  B  and  G  arose  from  the  grass  and  fired, 
killing  the  entire  party,  horses  and  all.  One  of 
them  was  literally  shot  to  pieces,  having  five  balls 
through  his  head  and  seven  through  the  chest. 
The  three  unfortunates  who  were  killed  were  part 
of  a  scouting  party,  the  main  body  being  farther 
back  toward  the  swamp.  The  fate  of  the  three 
alarmed  the  party,  and  they  were  seen  galloping 
through  the  cane  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the 
right  of  where  our  detachment  was  stationed.  A 
party  of  the  men  were  sent  out,  who  failed  to  cut 
them  off,  but  killed  one  and  made  two  prisoners. 

The  Mississippi,  by  means  of  her  lookout  at  the 
masthead,  was  able  to  distinguish  the  rebels  among 
the  cane  fields,  and  threw  a  few  shells  with  great 
precision,  which,  besides  killing  and  wounding 
.several,  added  greatly  to  the  mortal  terror  of  the 
rebels. 

In  the  meantime  the  main  body  of  the  rebels,  as 
yet  in  blissful  ignorance  of  our  force  and  resources, 
drew  up  in  line  of  battle  along  a  road  about  half  a 


THE    LATE    WAR.  313 

mile  to  the  left  of  our  position,  and  out  of  reach  of 
the  Mississippi,  with  the  intention  of  hazarding  a 
fight.  Throwing  out  skirmishers  to  the  right  and 
left,  with  the  Jackass  battery  in  front,  we  advanced 
along  a  cross-road  until  within  six  hundred  yards 
of  their  position.  An  open  field,  overgrown  with 
tall,  rank  weeds,  all  matted  together  with  a  web  of 
wild  pea  vines,  intervened.  The  whole  formed  a 
dense  jungle,  through  which  a  hare  could  scarcely 
force  her  body  ;  and  yet  this  was  the  kind  of  terri 
tory  over  which  our  boys  had  the  felicity  of  illus 
trating  the  beauties  of  the  skirmish  drill. 

Our  guns  opened  on  the  enemy  with  shell  and 
canister,  and  they  broke  in  the  utmost  terror. 
Prisoners  afterward  told  us  that  they  were  una 
ware  that  we  had  any  artillery,  and  were  taken 
completely  by  surprise  when  the  shells  and  canis 
ter  began  flying  through  their  ranks. 

From  this  time  the  affair  became  little  more  than 
a  rabbit  hunt.  The  greater  part  of  the  rebels  fled 
to  the  swamp,  but  some  of  them  scattered  among 
the  weeds  in  the  fields.  These  were  hunted  out 
and  shot  or  taken  prisoners.  The  road  to  the 
swamp  was  strewn  with  a  miscellaneous  lot  of 
clothing;  saddle-bags,  gourd-canteens,  pistols, 
knives,  swords,  hats,  coats,  shirts,  powder-kegs, 
hospital  stores,  and  everything  possible  to  be  cast 
loose  in  a  desperate  fight.  Haversacks,  rudely 
made  of  coffee  sacks,  and  filled  with  corn  bread, 
onions,  sweet  potatoes  and  fried  chicken,  lined  the 
road  on  either  side.  Some  of  the  canteens,  picked 
up  by  our  boys,  let  loose,  when  the  cork  was  re- 


314  THE    LATE    WAR. 

moved,  a  familiar  smell  of  "  spirits,"  but  no  Texan 
would  ever  for  a  moment  think  of  sacrificing  such 
an  utensil,  even  in  the  moment  of  wildest  panic, 
as  long  as  a  drop  remained.  Hair  lariats,  vast 
spurs,  with  rowels  as  large  as  a  silver  dollar,  buck 
skin  moccasins,  cap-boxes  made  of  sea-beans,  and 
all  outlandish  things  possible  for  a  Texan  ranger 
to  own,  also  paved  the  way. 

His  education,  who  has  never  seen  a  Louisiana 
swamp,  is  vastly  incomplete.  He  has  lived  with 
no  adequate  conception  of  what  Webster  means 
when  he  defines  desolation,  gloominess,  sadness, 
destitution.  Desolation  means  a  Louisiana  swamp. 
For  further  information  inquire  within.  Familiar 
as  I  have  been,  in  former  times,  with  these  vast 
swamps,  during  hunting  and  fishing  excursions,  I 
extended  my  acquaintance  at  that  time  ;  I  went 
further  into  the  swamp  than  I  had  ever  been  be 
fore — I  went  in  up  to  my  neck.  How  far  my 
horse  went,  I  can  not  say.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  he  was  still  going  in.  Into  the  swamp  rode 
the  six  hundred,  as  if  the  very  d — 1  was  after 
them  ;  and  into  the  vile  swamp,  among  the  moc 
casin  snakes,  we  followed  them.  For  two  miles  or 
more  we  floundered  through  the  mud  and  water, 
picking  up  a  squad  of  "tuckered"  out  rebels 
here,  shooting  another  one  there.  All  along,  the 
swamp  was  covered  with  horses,  bogged  down  and 
unable  to  move,  and  some  of  them  with  their  en 
trails  torn  out  in  contact  with  the  sharp  cypress 
needles  which  abounded  in  all  the  s\vamps.  For 
miles  these  horses,  a  great  many  of  them  fine  ones 


THE    LATE    WAR.  315 

too,  were  there  found.  The  best  horses  carried  their 
riders  the  farthest  into  the  morass.  We  got  out 
a  number  of  them,  shot  such  as  were  snagged  with 
the  needles,  and  left  the  others  to  their  fate.  Com 
ing  out  of  the  swamp,  it  would  have  puzzled  any 
one  to  have  told  an  officer  from  a  private,  or  a 
white  man  from  a  negro.  We  were  cased  in  a 
thick  coat  of  mud,  which  having  dried,  gave  us 
something  the  resemblance  of  plaster  statues.  Al 
together  we  made  a  rather  poor  affair  of  Waller's- 
battalion.  They  were  a  fine-looking,  greasy,  dirty, 
ragged,  savage,  cut-throatish  set,  but  splendidly 
mounted  and  equipped.  Every  man  had  a  shot 
gun,  carbine  or  short  musket,  from  one  to  two  fine 
revolvers,  and  a  large  outlandish  knife  or  cutlass 
two  feet  in  length,  from  two  to  four  inches  broad, 
and  weighing  from  two  to  four  pounds. 

We  killed  some  twelve  or  fourteen  rebels,  took 
twenty  or  thirty  prisoners,  and  captured  fully  four 
hundred  horses.  The  horses  were  good,  and  some 
of  the  equipments  elegant.  From  papers  captured, 
we  learned  that  Waller's  battalion  were  regularly 
mustered  into  the  Confederate  States'  service,  the 
men  having  equipped  themselves  at  an  average 
cost  of  three  hundred  and  thirty  dollars.  If  they 
did  not  perish  in  the  swamp,  and  ever  succeeded 
in  getting  together  again,  it  cost  them  a  trifle  to  re 
fit.  Reports  of  the  battle  of  Baton  Rouge  came 
back  to  us,  and  excited  no  little  merriment.  "Lord, 
lord,  how  this  world  is  given  to  lying !"  The  fact 
was,  it  was  a  hard  fight,  and  we  came  out  a  little 
the  best.  The  gunboats  rendered  no  assistance 


3l6  THE    LATE    WAR. 

whatever.  The  rebels  did  not  bayonet  our  wounded, 
nor  did  they  fire  on  them  as  they  were  brought 
in.  The  enemy  did  not  even  temporarily  occupy 
and  burn  our  camp.  They  began  to  burn,  but 
got  no  farther  than  the  third  row  of  tents.  The 
point  on  our  right,  where  the  majority  of  reports 
made  Nim's  battery  perform  prodigies  of  valor, 
was  occupied  by  Jim  Brown's  Jackass  battery. 

The  comments  of  the  Indianapolis  Journal  and 
Chicago  Tribune,  on  the  death  of  General  Wil 
liams,  were  not  in  the  best  taste,  though  literally 
true.  If  anything  could  have  justified  them,  how 
ever,  it  was  the  sickening  eulogy  which  was  heaped 
upon  his  memory  after  his  death.  The  truth  was, 
Williams  was  universally  detested  by  the  threeWest- 
ern  regiments  under  his  command.  So  far  from  be 
ing  the  accomplished  soldier  he  was  represented,  he 
either  had  no  military  talent  or  failed  to  manifest  it. 
Although  in  possession  of  certain  information  that 
an  attack  would  be  made  on  the  morning  of  the 
fifth,  he  made  no  preparation  whatever  to  meet  it, 
but  suffered  the  camp  of  the  Twenty-first  Indiana 
to  remain  in  its  old  position,  advanced  entirely  be 
yond  the  line,  or  where  the  line  should  have  been 
formed  in  "  order  of  combat  style."  During  the 
battle  he  seemed  to  be  without  a  purpose.  Just 
after  the  Seventh  Vermont  fired  into  us,  he  sent  an 
order  to  Colonel  Keith  to  fall  back  to  the  peniten 
tiary.  Colonel  Keith  swore  furiously,  and  utterly 
refused  to  obey,  saying  that  Williams  was  not  fool 
enough  to  send  such  an  order.  Just  then  Williams 
rode  up,  and  Keith  asked  him  if  he  had  sent  such 


THE    LATE    WAR. 


an  order.  "Yes,"  said  Williams;  "but  I  believe 
I  was  mistaken."  Then  the  order  was  given  to 
charge,  and  Williams  fell,  but  not  as  the  the  pa 
pers  had  it,  while  rallying  the  Twenty-first  Indiana.. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GEN.  WEITZEL,  a  worthy  young  gymnast,  who, 
by  a  vigorous  leap,  skipped  several  rounds  of  the 
ladder  of  military  promotion,  and  from  a  lieuten 
ant  became  a  brigadier  general,  was  organizing 
an  expedition  for  the  Attakapas  country.  Gen. 
Weitzel's  expedition  was  to  land  at  Donaldson- 
ville,  and  march  down  the  Bayou  Lafourche ;  but 
for  some  time  Donaldsonville  and  the  neighboring 
country  had  been  infested  with  audacious  and  dar 
ing  rebels,  who,  notwithstanding  the  gunboats, 
made  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  particu 
larly  uncomfortable,  and  cotton  and  sugar-stealing 
expeditions  extremely  hazardous.  The  powers 
that  be  had  a  little  curiosity  to  know  the  force  and 
resources  of  the  Donaldsonville  rebels,  and  Col. 
McMillan,  who  was  tolerably  sure  of  being  called 
on  when  anything  enterprising  or  dashing  was  to 
be  done,  was  commissioned  to  make  a  reconnois- 
sance.  With  a  force  of  about  four  hundred  men 
from  the  Twenty-first,  with  the  Jackass  battery 
under  command  of  Lieut.  Brough,  and  a  couple  of 
gunboats  in  the  river,  we  effected  a  landing  at 


.3  1 8  THE    LATE    WAR. 

Donaldsonville,  on  the  2ist  of  September,  1862. 
On  the  22d  and  23d,  we  made  short  excursions 
down  the  bayou  on  the  lower  side,  encountering 
and  driving  in  the  rebel  pickets. 

On  the  24th,  ascertaining  that  the  principal  force 
was  stationed  on  the  upper  side  of  the  bayou,  Col. 
McMillan,  with  three  hundred  men  and  the  three 
field  pieces,  started  down  that  side.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  had  learned  through  reliable  sources,  that 
the  rebel  forces  in  the  neighborhood  numbered 
over  a  thousand,  but,  with  our  battery,  we  were 
vain  enough  to  think  our  three  hundred  men  a 
match  for  them.  Proceeding  down  the  bayou, 
driving  the  rebel  pickets  before  us,  when  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Cox  plantation,  and  about 
three  miles  from  the  river,  we  found  a  little  more 
than  we  bargained  for  in  the  shape  of  Semmes' 
battery  This  was  one  of  the  finest  light  batteries 
in  the  Confederate  service,  consisting  of  six  rifled 
brass  six-pounders.  It  opened  upon  us  a  furious, 
well-directed,  and  well-sustained  fire,  which  was 
promptly  and  spiritedly  replied  to  by  our  battery. 
Finding  that  they  had  the  advantage  of  us  in 
range,  Lieut.  Brough  limbered  up,  and  took  a  new 
position  within  six  hundred  yards  of  his  opponent, 
when  the  artillery  duel  was  renewed. 

Taking  a  fancy  to  the  Confederate  pieces,  Colo 
nel  McMillan  ordered  a  charge  to  take  them  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet.  The  men,  who  were  shield 
ing  themselves  from  the  well-directed  fire  behind 
the  levee,  promptly  fell  in,  and  impatiently  awaited 
the  order  to  charge,  when  Colonel  McMillan  dis- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  319 

covered  a  heavy  force  of  cavalry  galloping  through 
the  cane-fields  with  the  evident  intention  of  cutting 
us  off  from  the  river.  This  somewhat  changed  the 
face  of  affairs,  and  a  retreat  was  ordered  and  con 
ducted  in  an  orderly  but  rather  hasty  manner.  I  was 
a  considerable  distance  in  advance  of  the  battalion 
with  a  party  of  skirmishers.  The  day  was  most  in 
fernally  hot,  and  with  my  brains  frying  and  sputter 
ing  in  my  head,  almost  completely  exhausted,  with 
my  skirmishers,  I  began  a  laborious  retreat  through 
the  thick  cane-rows  and  tangled  pea-vines.  Grad 
ually  the  boys  began  to  disappear  in  front,  and  the 
prospect  of  my  getting  through  became  involved  in 
disagreeable  uncertainty ;  yet  I  do  not  think  I 
would  have  been  taken  were  it  not  for  the  appear 
ance  of  my  evil  genius  in  the  shape  of  an  old  gray 
horse,  which  a  native  was  leading  out  of  the  cane. 
He  was  a'  most  unpromising  animal,  whose  sands 
of  life  had  nearly  run  out,  rough  and  shabby  in 
coat,  unsymmetrical  in  shape,  and  afflicted  with 
sundry  of  the  ills  to  which  horseflesh  is  heir  ;  but  I 
thought  he  might  have  life  enough  in  his  venerable 
bones  to  carry  me  out  of  a  bad  scrape.  I  made  the 
native  help  me  on  him,  and  then  go  ahead  and  let 
down  the  bars  so  I  could  get  out  on  the  bayou 
road.  I  struck  my  heels  vigorously  into  old  gray's 
ribs  and  whaled  him  with  the  end  of  a  rope,  but 
could  not  get  anything  better  out  of  him  than  a  de 
liberate  walk.  As  I  was  slowly  working  him  up  to 
the  fence,  already  entertaining  serious  doubts  as  to 
the  remunerative  nature  of  my  horse  speculation, 
my  native  called  to  me  in  barbarous  French  to  go 


320  THE    LATE    WAR. 

back  to  the  cane,  as  the  Philistines  were  coming; 
up  the  road.  I  evacuated  my  horse  in  strong  dis 
gust,  and  clambered  over  the  high  plank  fence  to 
get  into  the  cane.  In  getting  over,  I  caught  my 
foot  on  the  top  and  fell  all  of  a  heap,  giving  my 
back  a  violent  wrench.  I,  however,  limped  along 
until  I  found  the  enemy  were  between  me  and  our 
men,  and  then  laid  down  in  the  cane,  thinking  I 
would  wait  until  the  excitement  was  over,  and 
then  make  my  way  back  to  the  river.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  I  laid  there,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
nearly  a  week.  I  could  hear  our  battery  away  off 
near  the  river  blazing  away  at  the  rascals,  and  oc 
casionally  the  shrill  scream  of  our  gun-boat  shells. 
Finally,  all  became  quiet,  and  I  began  to  think  of 
make  another  start,  when  I  heard  the  galloping  of 
cavalry  near  me.  I  again  laid  down,  hugging  the 
the  earth  close,  and  making  myself  as  thin  as  pos 
sible,  but  keeping  a  lookout  towards  the  direction 
from  which  they  were  coming.  Presently  the  head 
of  a  squadron  of  the  sons  of  Belial  emerged  and 
filed  past  my  place  of  concealment,  down  the  "turn 
ing  row,"  on  their  return  from  pursuing  our  fel 
lows. 

The  party  had  nearly  all  passed,  and  I  began  to 
think  they  would  not  see  me,  when  a  little,  red- 
capped  cuss  in  the  last  file,  instead  of  going  about 
his  business,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  leftr 
did  look  to  the  right,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  my 
blue  blouse  among  the  green  leaves  of  the  cane. 
Wheeling  his  horse  around  he  took  another  look, 
then  cocked  his  double-barreled  shot-gun,  and  in- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  321 

vited  me  to  "  come  out  o'  that,"  an  invitation  I  did 
not  feel  at  liberty  to  decline.  I  came  out  and  gave 
up  my  arms,  when  a  lively  dispute  arose  between 
my  captor  and  one  of  his  companions  as  to  whose 
"  Yankee"  I  was,  each  claiming  that  he  had  seen 
me  first*  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should  suffer  the 
fate  of  the  unfortunate  Miss  McCrea  in  the  dis 
pute  between  the  two  Indians,  and  that  unable  to 
decide  which  of  them  should  have  me,  they  would 
agree  to  halve  me,  and  each  take  a  part.  Finally 
one  of  them  took  me  up  behind  him,  and  I  was 
carried  to  headquarters,  feeling  exceedingly  sheep 
ish,  with  a  strong  inclination  to  sell  out  of  the  ser 
vice  at  less  than  cost. 

The  headquarters  were  in  a  large  frame  dwell 
ing  taken  from  Mr.  Cox,  a  Union  man.  There  I 
found  Col.  Vincent,  a  little, 'spectacled  man,  with 
.a  Jewish  cast  of  countenance ;  Lieutenant  Colonel 
McWaters,  a  fine  looking,  red  faced  old  gentle 
man,  kind  and  generous  in  conduct,  but  fierce  as 
.a  tiger  in  battle ;  and  various  line  officers,  whose 
names  I  do  not  remember. 

I  was  paroled  not  to  attempt  an  escape,  and 
kindly  treated,  but  awfully  bored  with  questions, 
which,  however,  I  was  told  I  need  not  answer  un 
less  I  wanted  to.  I  also  met  Capt.  Semmes  and 
Lieut.  Fauntleroy,  of  the  battery.  Semmes  was 
a.  slight,  sallow-faced,  volatile  man,  apparently  not 
more  than  twenty-one  years  old,  a  son  of  "  Sum- 
ter"  Semmes,  then  commanding  the  Alabama.  I 
felt  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  to  see  him,  as  we 
were  already  acquainted  with  his  battery — having 
21 


322  THE    LATE    WAR. 

had  the  benefit  of  a  formal  introduction  at  Baton 
Rogue.  Fauntleroy  was  a  fine-looking,  amiable, 
red-headed  young  fellow,  with  a  most  amusing 
"  stutter  "  in  conversation. 

The  men  all  had  a  curiosity  to  see  and  talk  with 
the  prisoner,  so  much  so  that  Col.  McWaters- 
placed  a  guard  at  the  door  to  keep  them  from 
annoying  me  to  death.  One  of  them,  who  had 
failed  to  get  a  sight  at  the  show,  came  up  after  a 
while  and  stood  outside  the  door,  saying  nothing, 
but  looking  at  me  curiously.  Col.  Vincent  passed 
by,  and  asked  him  what  he  wanted.  He  said  he 
wanted  to  see  the  Yankee.  "  Want  to  see  a  Yan 
kee,  do  you?"  said  the  Colonel,  "Well  take  forty 
rounds  of  cartridge  and  go  up  to  Donelson."  The 
fellow  grinned  his  appreciation  of  the  joke,  but 
didn't  seem  to  want  to  see  the  Yankees  bad  enough 
for  that. 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th,  I  was  started  for 
Camp  Pratt,  on  Bayou  Teche,  in  charge  of  Lieut. 
Chamberlain.  We  landed  at  New  Iberia  about  an- 
hour  before  day,  a  little  town  with  dirty  streets, 
and  a  strong  sheepy  smell.  After  daylight  a  buggy 
was  procured,  and,  through  a  long  lane,  which 
had  more  than  one  turning,  I  was  conveyed  to 
Purgatory,  which,  in  the  language  of  the  country, 
was  called  "  Camp  Pratt,"  a  camp  of  conscription 
and  instruction,  six  miles  from  New  Iberia,  and 
fifty  miles  from  the  Bay.  The  camp  itself  was  a 
collection  of  plank  "wedge-tents,"  with  here  and 
there  small  editions  of  the  stars  and  bars  flapping 
their  greasy  folds  in  the  breeze.  I  was  taken  be- 


THE    LATE    WAR.  323 

fore  Col.  Burke.     Col.  Burke  was  the  "  big  Injun  " 
of  Camp  Pratt. 

I  was  turned  over,  properly  receipted  for,  and 
then,  after  taking  a  formal  leave  of  Lieut.  Chamber 
lain,  who  had  treated  me  very  kindly,  I  was  es 
corted  to  the  prisoners'  quarters,  where  one  hun 
dred  and  thirty-seven  Yankees,  taken  at  Bayou 
des  Allemands,  were  confined.  I  was  not  natur 
ally  a  lover  of  Yankees,  but,  "Fiat  Justitia," 
though  the  heavens  fall.  These  were  the  meanest 
Yankees  I  ever  saw.  Of  course  there  were  hon 
orable  exceptions,  but  I  never  saw  as  much  petty 
meanness  and  selfishness  in  my  life  as  I  witnessed 
among  them.  They  annoyed  me,  and  disgusted 
me  more  completely  than  anything  I  saw  in  rebel- 
dom.  The  officers,  however,  were  very  clever y 
but  one  of  them  was  the  most  inveterate  Yankee  I 
ever  met.  He  had  been  five  years  in  the  regular 
army,  and  still  his  enunciation  of  "cow"  would 
have  insured  him  "  a  long  cord  and  short  shrift  " 
in  the  days  of  Kansas  border  ruffianism.  He  al 
ways  called  me  "  Hoiu-sicr"  and  really  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  wit  of  the  thing  so  highly  that  I  could 
not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  get  angry  with  him.  I 
contrived,  however,  to  let  him  know  in  the  course 
of  our  acquaintance,  that  so  far  from  being  ashamed 
of  being  a  Hoosier,  I  was  proud  of  it,  and  that  I 
did  not  agree  with  him  in  believing  that  the  hub  of 
the  universe  was  located  in  New  England, 


324  THE    LATE    WAR. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THERE  I  also  found  Connelly  and  Cox,  our  two 
lieutenants,  who  were  captured  in  May  last.  Poor 
fellows  !  They  had  been  confined  for  three  months 
and  fifteen  days  in  Opelousas  jail  before  coming  to 
Camp  Pratt.  Camp  Pratt  was  filled  with  Cajunn 
conscripts.  I  will  try  and  tell  what  a  Cajunn  is.  He 
Is  a  half-savage  creature,  of  mixed  French  and 
Indian  blood  ;  lives  in  swamps, and  subsists  by  hunt 
ing  and  fishing  and  cultivating  small  patches  of 
corn  and  sweet  potatoes.  They  are  sallow,  dried 
up,  and  mummy-like  in  appearance,  and  stolid  and 
stupid  in  expression.  The  wants  of  the  Cajunn  are 
few,  and  his  habits  simple.  With  a  bit  of  corn- 
~bread,  a  potato,  and  a  clove  of  garlic,  with  an  oc 
casional  indulgence  in  stewed  crawfish,  he  gets 
along  quite  comfortably,  and  for  luxuries,  smokes 
husk  cigarettes  and  drinks  rum — when  he  can  get 
it.  The  Cajunn  has  great  powers  of  endurance, 
but  not  much  stomach  for  fight.  Of  the  herd  at 
Camp  Pratt,  desertions  were  quite  frequent,  some 
times  as  many  as  thirty  or  forty  stampeding  in  a 
single  night.  But  they  wrould  be  caught,  brought 
back,  made  to  wear  a  barrel  for  a  week  or  two,  and 
were  finally  broke  in. 

I  can  not  say  that  we  were  abused  by  the 
Cajunns.  They  did  not  insult,  but  exasperated  us 
dreadfully.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening,  they  would 


THE    LATE    WAR.  325 

gather  about  our  quarters,  and  stand,  or  sit  squat 
ted  on  their  haunches,  for  hours,  not  saying  a 
word  to  us  or  to  each  other,  but  regarding  us  with 
a  grim,  stupid  stare,  reminding  me  strongly  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  lower  class  of  Choctaws,  in 
the  Indian  country,  sit  and  gaze  at  a  circus  bill. 

Seven  of  us  were  stowed  in  one  tent — a  dirty, 
greasy  pen,  densely  populated  with  vermin.  We 
had  three  blankets  among  us,  and  as  northers 
would  occasionally  blow  up,  one  might  imagine 
our  sleep  was  not  "balmy."  We  had  about  a 
quarter  of  an  acre  of  ground  for  one  hundred  and 
forty  persons  to  exercise  upon,  with  a  guard  of  one 
Cajunn,  with  a  double-barreled  shot-gun,  to  every 
fourteen  feet  of  ground.  For  food,  we  had  yellow 
cornmeal,  beef,  and  sugar,  issued  to  us,  with  the 
alternative  of  cooking  it  ourselves  or  eating  it  raw. 
The  Yankees  boiled  the  beef,  and  made  a  thick 
mush  of  the  meal,  which  they  called  pudding. 
Boiled  beef  is  the  meanest  thing  on  earth,  except 
half-cooked,  yellow  mush.  I  ate  the  mush  for 
three  or  four  days,  un£il  my  stomach  utterly  re 
volted,  and  an  attempt  to  eat  it  was  followed  by 
the  most  violent  retching.  Then  I  subsisted  on 
beef  alone  for  a  time.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  came 
near  being  starved.  The  ghost  of  every  good  din 
ner  I  ever  ate  in  my  life,  haunted  my  weary  slum 
bers.  The  shade  of  a  mince  pie,  which  an  es 
teemed  lady  friend  had  sent  me  years  ago,  was 
particularly  obtrusive.  After  feasting  upon  all 
manner  of  delicacies  and  substantiate  in  my  trou- 


326  THE    LATE    WAR. 

,« 

bled  sleep,  I  would  wake  to  the  realization  of  cap 
tivity,  and  the  cussed  mush  and  beef. 

Camp  Pratt  was  short  of  crockery, and  the  boys, 
for  plates,  used  all  sorts  of  contrivances,  so  that 
they  frequently  ate  their  mush  from  pieces  of  gourd 
calabashes,  the  shoulder-blades  of  deceased  oxen 
and  other  unique  vessels. 

While  the  men  had  money  they  would  buy  milk 
at  twenty-five  cents  a  quart ;  eggs,  fifty  cents  per 
dozen ;  sweet  potatoes,  four  dollars  per  bushel ; 
a  twelve-ounce  loaf  for  fifty  cents,  etc.  ;  but  after 
they  had  eaten  up  their  knapsacks,  haversacks, 
canteens,  and,  in  some  instances,  their  shoes,  they 
had  to  return  to  mush  and  beef.  As  for  me,  I  had 
no  money,  and  as  nobody  offered  to  lend  me  any, 
I  had  a  full  course  of  the  nutritious  diet  alluded  to. 
Connelly  and  Cox  were  in  the  same  fix.  The  only 
time  when  we  departed  from  the  bill  of  fare  was 
when  we  devoured  Connelly's  watch. 

In  justice  to  the  Camp  Pratt  officers,  I  must  say 
they  gave  to  us  just  what  they  did  to  their  own 
men.  Indeed,  I  generally  found  them  willing  to 
oblige  us,  when  in  their  power.  One  might  natur 
ally  imagine  the  days  at  Camp  Pratt  were  long  and 
irksome.  The  entire  literary  resources  of  our  party 
amounted  to  an  old  magazine,  a  Dutch  dictionary, 
a  Catholic  prayer-book,  in  French,  and  a  well- 
worn  edition  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe."  Robinson 
was  good  for  thirty  or  forty  perusals,  but  after  that 
became  a  little  stale. 

Connelly  and  Cox,  having  been  nearly  five 
months  in  captivity,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  ever 


THE    LATE    WAR.  327 

being  released,  concluded  to  risk  the  fearful 
chances  of  a  journey  through  the  swamps,  to  es 
cape.  Knowing  more  than  they  of  the  horrors  of 
a  Louisiana  swamp,  I  tried  to  dissuade  them  ;  but, 
finding  them  determined,  I  resolved  to  risk  my  fate 
with  theirs.  One  dark  night  they  both  succeeded 
in  getting  away,  but  I  was  stopped  by  the  guard. 
This  I  regarded  at  the  time  as  another  exemplifi 
cation  of  my  constitutional  ill-luck ;  but  I  soon  had 
occasion  to  look  upon  it  as  the  only  good  luck  I 
ever  had  in  my  life.  The  very  next  day  after  the 
skedaddle,  we  learned  that  we  were  to  have  been 
sent  to  Vicksburg,  to  be  paroled,  and  in  a  week  we 
went.  Connelly  and  Cox,  I  afterwards  learned, 
after  suffering  unheard-of  hardships  from  cold, 
hunger  and  venomous  insects,  were  recaptured  at 
Donaldsonville,  utterly  barefooted,  and  with  bleed 
ing,  mangled  feet. 

From  the  time  of  leaving  Camp  Pratt,  we  fared 
well.  Captain  Rensaw,  or  Ransom,  who  had  us 
in  charge,  treated  us  very  kindly.  We  came  down 
the  Teche  and  up  Achafalaya,  on  the  "  Cricket," 
to  the  mouth  of  Red  river,  and  from  thence  on  the 
•"Louis  d'Or"  to  Vicksburg.  This  was  the  chan 
nel  of  communication  between  Richmond  and 
Louisiana,  or  Texas,  and  the  Government  boats 
did  a  lively  trade  in  sugar  and  beef.  The  batter 
ies  at  Port  Hudson  and  Vicksburg  kept  all  that 
portion  of  the  river  between  the  two  places  open. 

At  Vicksburg  we  remained  two  weeks.  The  offi 
cers  were  paroled  for  a  certain  portion  of  the  city, 
and  boarded  at  the  Washington  Hotel,  at  an  ex- 


328  THE    LATE    WAR. 

pense  of  $4.00  per  day  each  to  the  Confederate 
government.  There  I  was  treated  with  much  kind 
ness  and  courtesy  by  Confederate  officers,  many 
of  whom  offered  to  lend  me  money.  Everywhere 
the  utmost  confidence  in  the  success  of  their  cause 
was  felt.  The  fortifications  at  Vicksburg  had  been 
greatly  strengthened,  and  were  then  regarded  as- 
invulnerable.  The  construction  of  the  Yazoo- 
iron-clads  proceeded  slowly,  but,  from  what  I 
learned  incidentally,  they  would  prove  more  for 
midable  than  any  they  had  ever  had.  The  Con 
federates  expressed  the  highest  admiration  of  Rose- 
crans,  but  said  that  McClellan  was  our  best  gen 
eral.  They  said  that  if  he  had  had  Western  men 
in  his  army  they  could  not  have  cleaned  him  out 
so  easily.  They  thought  Buell  a  dangerous  man. 
For  Pope  they  had  the  most  supreme  contempt, 
and  they  thought  they  were  too  sharp  for  any  of 
Sigel's  Dutch  tricks. 

We  came  down  from  Vicksburg  under  a  flag  of 
truce.  Our  regiment  was  out  at  Berwick's  Bay. 
They  manned  the  gun-boats  in  the  fight  at  the 
mouth  of  Teche,  and  lost  five  men  killed.  Lieu 
tenant  Wolfe,  of  Company  H,  was  killed,  and 
Lieutenant  Fisher,  of  Company  A,  lost  both  his 
legs  by  the  premature  explosion  of  a  shell.  Our 
boys  made  excellent  gunners.  They  could  do  any 
thing — cavalry,  artillery,  engineering  or  navy  work, 
as  well  as  infantry.  Our  colonel,  however,  always- 
fancied  that  he  belonged  to  the  navy. 

Another  change  now  took  place  in  post  com 
manders.  Between  King's  Log  and  King's  Stork, 


THE    LATE    WAR.  329 

we  were  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  as  heartily  sick 
of  change  as  were  the  frogs  in  the  ancient  fable. 
The  new  commander — General  Philip  St.  George 
Cook — dawned  upon  us,  and  immediately  began  to 
"fix  things."  Cotton  in  large  quantities,  hereto 
fore  concealed,  was  freely  exchanged  for  the  nec 
essaries  and  luxuries  of  life. 

There  were  twenty  regiments  of  the  Corps  dr 
Afrique,  at  Port  Hudson,  and  more  were  to  be  or 
ganized.  A  year  before,  one  would  as  soon 
thought  of  drowning  himself  as  of  taking  a  posi 
tion  in  a  negro  regiment.  That  service,  however, 
became  quite  popular,  and  a  number  of  the  Twen 
ty-first  Indiana  became  officers  therein. 

November  7,  1863,  our  cavalry  scouts  en 
countered  a  small  mounted  force  of  the  enemy, 
about  six  miles  out  on  the  Clinton  road,  and  it  was 
reported  to  be  the  advance  of  a  heavy  force,  of 
course.  Enemy's  loss,  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
one  killed,  wounded,  and  driven  back — principally 
driven  back  ;  our  loss  trifling. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TOWARDS  the  latter  part  of  November,  1868,  in 
dications  were  more  favorable  for  something  to 
transpire  at  our  end  of  the  river.  The  rebels,  sen 
sible  of  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to  protract  the 
war  with  the  Mississippi  in  our  possession,  seemed 


33°  THE    LATE    WAR. 

to  be  meditating  a  bold  stroke  to  establish  a  per 
manent  blockade,  either  by  fortifying  a  new  point, 
like  that  of  Fort  Adams,  for  instance,  or  by  the 
recapture  of  Port  Hudson. 

Gen.  Dick  Taylor  was  reported  to  have  crossed 
the  Atchafalaya  in  force,  and  established  himself 
on  the  Mississippi,  between  Morganza  and  the 
mouth  of  Red  river,  with  the  intention,  as  some 
supposed,  of  capturing  a  steamer  and  crossing  over 
to  the  other  side. 

The  Emerald  was  fired  on  one  morning,  at 
Hogg's  Landing,  on  her  way  down,  by  a  battery 
of  six  and  twelve-pounders.  The  boat  had  an 
chored  in  a  heavy  fog  during  the  night,  about  six 
hundred  yards  from  the  shore.  She  had  aboard 
about  five  hundred  soldiers,  including  Company 
M,  First  Indiana  Artillery,  and  convalescents  from 
the  Thirteenth  Army  Corps.  The  fog  beginning  to 
lift  in  the  morning,  the  captain  had  the  anchor 
weighed,  preparatory  to  moving  ahead,  and  just 
at  this  time  the  opposite  shore ,  was  discovered  to 
be  alive  with  gray-backs.  Lieutenant  McMillan,  of 
the  First  Indiana,  being  in  command  of  the  boat, 
formed  up  such  of  his  men  as  were  armed,  about 
two  hundred  in  number,  and  fired  on  the  enemy. 
The  fire  was  immediately  returned  with  ^artillery. 
Twenty-one  shots  were  fired  in  all,  three  taking 
effect;  one  in  the  hull,  one  in  the  cabin,  and  one 
in  the  pilot-house.  The  shot  in  the  pilot-house 
was  a  twelve-pound  shell,  and  in  exploding,  tore 
it  to  pieces  and  knocked  over  the  pilot,  who,  con 
siderably  stunned  and  bewildered,  ran  below,  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  331 

boat  in  the  meantime  running  ashore,  and  making 
prodigious  efforts  to  climb  the  bank.  A  soldier  of 
the  Seventeenth  Kentucky  threatened  to  blow  the 
pilot's  brains  out,  and  drove  him  back  to  his  post, 
when  the  boat  was  headed  down  stream  and 
steamed  off,  making  better  time,  than  she  ever 
made  before. 

The  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  was  a  ticklish 
business  at  this  time.  The  steamer,  Black  Hawk, 
was  fired  on  at  about  the  same  point  where  the  Em 
erald  and  others  were  riddled — viz.  Hogg's  Land 
ing.  This  boat  was  terribly  torn,  while  several 
were  killed  and  others  wounded.  There  were  la 
dies  on  board,  but  they  escaped  without  injury.  At 
Tyler,  a  large  number  of  our  men,  who  had  been 
made  prisoners,  were  confined.  Frequent  attempts 
were  made  to  escape,  which  the  rebels  mostly  pre 
vented  by  organizing  a  blood-hound  cor-ps  to  hunt 
them  down. 

The  enemy,  during  the  entire  'campaign,  stud 
iously  avoided  a  general  engagement,  but  was  ac 
tive  enough  in  making  sudden  dashes  on  exposed 
detachments.  Our  generals,  who  made  war  ac 
cording  to  rule,  were  disgusted  with  the  irregular 
tactics  of  the  Confederates,  who  played  swordfish 
to  the  whale. 

An  Ohio  regiment,  captured  in  Burbridge's  brig 
ade,  numbering  over  three  hundred,  was  said  to 
have  given  at  a  recent  election,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  votes  for  Vallandigham.  With  such  a  record, 
no  one  could  feel  very  sorry  for  them. 

The  City  Belle,  chartered  by  Gov.  Morton,  ar- 


33  2  THE    LATE    WAR. 

rived  at  Baton  Rouge  the  last  day  of  December,, 
1862,  loaded  with  sanitary  stores  for  the  Indiana 
soldiers  of  that  department. 

At  that  time,  Baton  Rouge  and  the  woods  and 
swamps  of  the  interior,  were  said  to  be  swarming 
with  refugees.  Two  causes  operated  to  drive  them 
into  our  lines — the  scarcity  of  food  and  the  activ 
ity  of  the  conscript  hunters.  Many  of  those  who 
came  in,  had  laid  for  weeks  and  months  in  the 
swamps,  living  on  frogs,  crawfish,  and  an  occa 
sional  ear  of  corn. 

In  August,  1863,  the  thunders  of  war  ceased  at 
Port  Hudson.  I  had  been  absent  for  several 
months — in  fact,  had  been  sent  on  a  fool's  errand 
to  the  darker  portion  of  Indiana,  and  had  received 
a  fool's  reward.  I  went  on  business  connected 
with  the  recruiting  service,  but  few  were  the  re 
cruits,  and  small  were  the  demands  made  on  the 
United  States  Treasury  for  transportation  of  men 
from  Martin  county  to  the  seat  of  war.  Return 
ing  too  late  to  share  the  perils  of  the  siege  and 
the  glory  of  the  final  triumph,  I  must  content  my 
self  with  reviewing  what  others  did.  Though 
nearly  a  month  had  elapsed  since  the  surrender  of 
that  stronghold,  there  were  abundant  evidences  of 
the  tremendous  struggle  of  our  forces  for  posses 
sion,  and  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the  besieged » 

Of  the  hundred  pieces  of  artillery  captured,, 
scarce  one  but  bore  marks  of  rough  usage,  in  the 
shape  of  a  shattered  carriage,  a  split  muzzle,  trun 
nions  knocked  off,  or  deep  indentations  in  the  side. 
Captain  Connelly,  with  two  pieces,  crossed  the 


THE    LATE    WAR.  333 

river  below,  and,  cutting  embrasures  in  the  levee, 
soon  dismounted  all  their  guns  on  the  lower  part 
of  their  river  front,  without  losing  a  man,  or  hav 
ing  had  either  of  his  guns  disabled.  Among  them 
the  large  rifled  piece  which  sunk  the  Mississippi, 
and  which  had  been  a  terror  to  our  fleet,  went  by 
the  board. 

I  rode  around  the  rebel  works.  They  were 
.seven  miles  in  extent,  and  were  neither  strong  nor 
elaborate  in  construction.  The  rebels  were  in 
debted  to  nature,  rather  than  art,  for  the  success 
with  which  six  thousand  men  so  long  and  so  suc 
cessfully  held  out  against  the  army  of  Gen.  Banks. 
The  country  around  Port  Hudson  was  cut  up  with 
wide  and  deep  ravines,  intersecting  each  other  at 
.all  sorts  of  angles.  These  ravines  had  precipitous 
banks,  and  were  filled  with  a  wild  mass  of  fallen 
trees,  tangled  vines  and  undergrowth,  through 
which  it  would  seem  a  rabbit  could  scarcely  force 
its  way.  In  riding  around  the  line,  a  nice,  smooth 
place  was  occasionally  seen,  left  invitingly  open 
for  a  charge,  but  a  closer  examination  revealed 
the  fact  that  it  would  not  have  been  very  healthy 
to  attempt  the  entrance.  Masked  batteries,  en 
filading  pieces  and  torpedoes,  were  ready  to  deal 
death  and  destruction  on  the  advancing  columns. 
The  Citadel,  the  rebel  work,  to  the  capture  of 
which  almost  the  entire  energy  of  the  besieging 
forces  was  directed  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
siege,  and  to  effect  which  the  celebrated  sixteen- 
gun  battery  was  erected,  proved  to  have  been  lit 
tle  more  than  an  out-work,  so  effectually  com- 


334  THE  LATE  WAR. 

manded  by  interior  works,  that  in  the  event  of  its 
being  taken  it  could  not  have  been  held.  At  the 
time  of  the  surrender  it  had  been  sapped  by  the 
Michigan  men,  the  shaft  entering  a  distance  of 
eighty-fhre  feet  from  the  base. 

From  officers  who  participated  in  the  siege,  I 
learned  a  number  of  interesting  facts,  which  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  seen  anywhere  else.  The 
various  charges  made  upon  the  works  did  not  seem 
to  have  been  very  well  managed.  In  the  first 
charge,  on  the  27th  of  May,  Sherman,  at  first,  re 
fused  to  charge,  alleging  that  it  would  be  a  useless 
expenditure  of  life.  General  Banks  sent  a  peremp 
tory  order  to  charge  at  all  hazards.  Sherman  did 
so,  but  was  repulsed  with  fearful  loss.  In  the 
meantime,  before  Sherman  started,  the  charge 
had  taken  place  at  other  points,  and  had  been  re 
pulsed,  and  the  rebels  had  concentrated  on  Sher 
man's  front.  Payne's  charge  was  well  and  gal 
lantly  executed,  and  came  nearer  being  a  success. 
Dwight's  charge  was  a  miracle — in  its  way — and 
was,  no  doubt,  the  most  remarkable  one  on  rec 
ord.  It  would  certainly  have  been  successful,  but 
for  the  great  distance  intervening  between  the  ad 
vancing  columns  and  the  parapet,  and  the  fact  that 
the  nine-months'  heroes  became  pretty  well  "tuck 
ered  out"  just  about  the  time  they  got  within  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  of  the  rebel  works,  within 
easy  range  of  a  light  battery,  which  opened  on 
them.  Of  the  infantry  participating  in  these 
charges,  the  Fourth  Wisconsin,  Sixth  Michigan, 
and  Second  Duryea  Zouaves  have  the  best  record. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  335 

They  were  all  terribly  cut  up,  and  behaved  most 
gallantly. 

Guerrillas  were  again  active,  and  gobbled  up  a 
party' of  wood-cutting  negroes,  in  plain  sight  of  the 
State  House.  Then  again,  just  across  the  river, 
they  made  simultaneous  attacks  on  government 
plantations  on  both  side,  a  little  below  Port  Hud 
son,  killing  and  wounding  a  number  of  negroes- 
One  of  our  gun-boats  came  down  and  shelled 
then  off,  taking  five  or  six  prisoners.  That  is  the 
only  instance  on  record,  I  think,  of  a  gun-boat 
taking  cavalry.  The  scoundrels  did  not  observe 
the  approach  of  the  vessel  until  they  were  covered 
by  her  guns,  when  they  preferred  surrender  to  the 
risk  of  being  ventilated  with  canister. 

General  Weitzel's  brigade  went  down  the  river 
and  joined  the  expedition,  a  part,  at  least,  of  which 
was  on  its  way,  having  been  heard  from  at  the 
Southwest  Pass.  The  command  of  the  post  de 
volved  upon  Colonel  John  A.  Keith,  of  the  First 
Indiana  Artillery,  who,  notwithstanding  his  right 
arm  was  entirely  useless  from  the  effects  of  the- 
terrible  wound  he  received  in  the  battle  on  the  5th 
of  August,  had  been  in  command  of  his  regiment 
since  April,  and  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  the 
siege  and  reduction  of  Port  Hudson. 

From  some  of  the  soldiers  on  board,  the  Iber- 
villes,  that  came  down  early  in  October,  with  badly 
wounded  men  of  the  Twenty-sixth  Indiana,  and  a 
few  Confederate  prisoners,  I  obtained  an  intelli 
gible  account  of  an  affair  near  Morganza,  exagger 
ated  rumors  of  which  had  reached  us  from  many 


33^  THE    LATE    WAR. 

sources.  The  facts  were  that  General  Herron, 
with  a  force  of  three  or  four  thousand  men,  had 
been  sent  up  to  Morganza,  to  amuse  a  Confederate 
force  in  that  neighborhood  and  try  and  hold  them 
there  until  the  Teche  expedition,  by  advancing  as 
far  as  Vermilionville,  would  cut  them  off.  General 
Herron,  after  landing  at  Morganza  and  throwing 
out  a  force  of  five  hundred  men,  of  the  Twenty- 
sixth  Indiana  and  Nineteenth  Iowa,  was  relieved 
of  his  command  by  General  Dana,  and  ordered  to 
report  to  General  Banks.  This  force  of  five  hun 
dred  men,  under  command  of  Colonel  Leake,  of 
the  Twenty-eighth  Iowa,  was  encamped  between 
the  main  force  and  the  Atchafalaya,  which  ran 
near  the  Mississippi,  at  Morganza,  had  been  en 
gaged  for  a  number  of  days  in  constant  skirmish 
ing  with  the  enemy,  and  was  finally  surrounded  by 
an  overwhelming  force,  and,  after  a  desperate 
fight  had  to  surrender,  with  a  loss  of  fourteen  killed 
and  over  forty  wounded.  The  fight  was  represented 
by  those  who  participated  in  it  to  have  been  of  the 
most  obstinate  and  deadly  character.  Col.  Leake 
was  badly  wounded.  After  the  fight,  the  Confed 
erates,  under  command  of  General  Greene,  of 
Texas,  hastily  retreated,  leaving  all  our  wounded 
(with  the  exception  of  the  officers,  whom  they  car 
ried  off)  upon  the  field,  with  three  of  our  soldiers, 
who  were  unhurt,  to  take  care  of  them.  They  did 
not  offer  to  parole  our  wounded  or  the  nurses  left 
with  them,  but  hastily  covered  up  their  own  dead, 
and  took  their  wounded  to  the  other  side  of  the 
Atchafalaya. 


THE    LATE    WAR.  337 

One  section  of  the  Second  Missouri  Battery  was- 
also  captured.  There  was  a  small  cavalry  force 
along  with  the  command  of  Colonel  Leake,  which 
cut  its  way  through  the  enemy,  and  reported  to 
General  Dana  at  Morganza,  who,  with  forces 
drawn  up  in  line  behind  the  levee,  seemed  to  be 
quietly  awaiting  the  issue  of  the  conflict  going  on 
in  his  front. 

The  town  of  Morganza — a  small  collection  of 
antiquated  frame  houses  —  was  burned  by  our 
troops,  who  were  intrenched  behind  the  levee,  and 
under  the  protection  of  the  gun-boats,  awaited  an 
attack  from  a  force  said  to  number  ten  thousand. 
Morganza  was  in  Morgan's  Bend,  a  few  miles 
above  Bayou  Sara. 

The  Confederates  held  a  strongly  fortified  posi 
tion  at  Camp  Bisland,  where  a  desperate  stand 
might  have  been  made  ;  but  it  was  so  situated,  geo 
graphically,  that  a  force  coming  in  from  above 
could  have  cut  them  off  completely.  Fearing  this, 
they  removed  their  cannon  and  destroyed  their 
works  as  soon  as  they  discovered  the  formidable 
nature  of  the  force  gathered  at  Brashear,  and 
moved  further  up  the  country. 


22 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 


THE  HORRIBLE  FLY. 

Oh,  the  fly  !     The  horrible  fly, 
Dabbing  at  rose  and  mouth  and  eye ; 
Over  the  ceiling,  over  the  meat, 
Over  all  that  people  eat. 
Buzzing, 

Tickling, 

Crawling  about — 
Damnable  insect  you  get  out. 
Waddling  in  the  paint  on  a  lady's  cheek, 
Leaving  behind  a  tortuous  streak. 
Accursed  fly  !  from  the  hell  below, 
Never  came  pest  that  plagues  us  so. 

Oh,  the  fly  !     The  riotous  fly 
Pest  of  the  earth.     Beneath  the  sky 
Nothing  that's  devilish  ranks  so  high 
As  this  'ere  infernal  buzzing  fly, 
Dancing, 

Nibbling, 

Fresh  from  the  stye — 
The  stinking  stye,  where  the  porkers  lie, 
And  even  the  dogs,  with  a  snarl  and  a  bound, 
Snap  at  the  insects  that  swarm  around. 
The  air  is  blue  with  oaths  that  try 
To  drown  the  hum  of  the  odious  fly. 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS.         339 

When  the  weary  pilgrim  seeks  repose 
There's  a  hornpipe  danced  on  the  tip  of  his  nose, 
There's  a  vigorous  d — n  and  a  slam  and  slap, 
And  that's  the  end  of  the  sleeper's  nap. 
Singing, 

Stinging, 

Why,  oh,  why — 
Did  God  create  this  pestilent  fly. 
Once  I  was  pious,  but  fell  from  grace, 
Played  the  pack  open  and  coppered  the  ace, 
Made  of  myself  a  terrible  guy, 
When  the  devil  caught  me  out  on  the  fly. 

How  strange  it  is  that  housewives  will  try 
To  kill  with  cobalt  this  villainous  fly. 
How  strange  it  seems  when  a  billion  are  slain, 
To  find  the  multitude  doubled  again, 
Whisking, 
Frisking, 

With  clammy  feet — 
Wrading  deep  in  the  food  we  eat. 
If,  like  Toby,  at  the  fly  we  swear, 
And  the  angel  recorder  enters  it  there, 
Give  us  then  the  welcome  doubt 
That  the  tear  of  mercy  will  blot  it  out. 


THE  MISSION  OF  AN  AEROLITE. 

One  of  the  most  phenomenal  deaths  that  ever 
was  known,  occurred  in  the  vicinity  of  Newtown, 
Fountain  county,  this  State,  on  Tuesday  night. 
Leonidas  Grover,  a  farmer,  while  asleep  in  his 
bed,  was  instantly  killed  by  an  aerolite,  which 
came  from  some  unknown  quarter  of  the  universe, 
flying  through  space  with  fearful  velocity.  It  tore 


340         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

a  ragged  opening  through  the  roof  directly  above 
Mr.  Grover's  breast,  crashed  through  his  body, 
through  the  bed  and  the  floor  beneath,  and  buried 
itself  five  feet  in  the  earth.  Its  weight  was  twenty 
pounds.  What  time  the  mysterious  missile  came, 
no  one  knows.  Mr.  Grover's  daughter  and  her 
husband,  who  constitute  the  family  with  whom 
he  resided,  were  away  during  the  evening.  When 
they  returned  at  a  late  hour,  the  house  was  still. 
They  retired,  and  did  not  learn  of  Mr.  Grover's 
death  until  the  next  morning,  when,  as  he  did  not 
come  to  breakfast  at  his  usual  time,  his  daughter 
went  to  call  him.  The  position  of  the  dead  man 
when  found  showed  that  he  had  been  asleep  when 
the  curious  messenger  of  death  met  him,  and  that 
his  death  had  been  instantaneous  and  painless. 

Death  has  many  avenues  out  of  life  ;  but  none 
have  heretofore  been  discovered  so  mysterious,  so 
full  of  sad  speculation,  and  so  certainly  proving 
that  "no  man  knoweth  when  the  king  shall  come." 
Of  all  ways  of  leaving  the  world  this  is  one  that 
never  could  have  occurred  to  Mr.  Grover.  He  lay 
down  peacefully  in  his  bed,  in  the  house  that  had 
sheltered  him  safely  for  years, without  a  thought  of 
danger,  and  while  he  slept  a  missile  more  deadly 
than  the  thunderbolts  of  Jupiter,  a  projectile  hurled 
by  the  very  gods,  as  it  were,  from  some  planet  mil 
lions  of  miles  away,  came  straight  as  an  Indian's 
arrow  through  space %and  struck  him  lifeless.  He 
was  an  upright  and  God-fearing  man,  and  had  no 
enemies  to  dread  ;  no  avenger  to  fear.  His  life 
had  been  calm  and  simple.  He  had  joyed  in  the 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS.  34! 

few  homely  pleasures  that  surrounded  him.  He 
had  watched  the  seasons  come  and  go  with  sweet 
contentment.  When  he  lay  down  that  fateful  even 
ing  he  had  no  premonition  of  the  dreadful  thunder- 
stone  which  was  flying  through  space,  bearing  his 
death-warrant.  He  dreamed,  perhaps,  as  he  slept, 
but  only  of  happy  hours  that  were  safe  in  the  im 
pregnable  past,  and  not  of  the  grim  angel  whose 
wings  shadowed  him,  for  his  face  still  bore  the 
trace  of  smiles,  and  was  untouched  by  a  line  of 
anguish.  On,  on  came  the  aerolite,  hissing  through 
space  with  a  momentum  so  terrific  it  can  scarcely 
be  computed  ;  its  aim  as  certain,  its  purpose  as 
deadly  as  though  propelled  by  some  invisible  but 
superhumanly  intelligent  power.  It  struck  Mr. 
Grover  as  he  slept  and  dreamed,  and  the  spark  of 
his  life  was  quenched.  The  mission  of  the  mys 
terious  missile  was  accomplished.  Its  journey 
through  infinite  space  was  finished .  It  buries  itself 
in  the  earth,  and  the  heat  of  its  anger  and  the 
force  of  its  fury  are  spent.  It  is  no  longer  a  mes 
senger  from  another  world,  charged  with  a  tragic 
commission,  but  a  part  of  our  earth,  passive  and 
inanimate,  compelled  to  remain  so  until  some 
grand  change  is  made  in  the  solar  system  of  which 
this  planet  is  a  part. 

Many  have  been  the  theories  advanced  to  explain 
the  phenomena  of  aerolites  or  meteorolites.  That 
they  are  mineral  masses  of  ultra-terrestrial  origin, 
fallen  to  our  earth,  is  now  the  accepted  theory ; 
though  as  meteoric  astronomy  is  yet  in  its  infancy, 
the  true  source  of  their  origin  and  the  causes 


342         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

which  impel  them  to  this  planet  are  yet,  perhaps, 
to  be  discovered  and  made  plain.  It  is  estimated 
that  at  least  five  thousand  separate  aerolites  fall 
every  year,  and  as  many  as  six  or  seven  hundred 
meteoric  showers  take  place  over  the  surface  of 
the  earth  in  the  same  time.  Sometimes  one  or  two 
single  masses  fall,  and  sometimes  a  shower  of  two 
hundred  or  more  stones  is  distributed  over  several 
acres  or  miles  ;  sometimes  dust  accompanies  the 
shower,  and  sometimes  dust  falls  alone.  Chladni 
propounded  the  now  generally  accepted  theory  with 
regard  to  the  origin  of  aerolites.  He  affirmed  that 
there  are  more  comets  and  smaller  bodies  flying 
about  in  space  than  there  are  fishes  in  the  ocean. 
The  velocity  of  aerolites  is  more  than  triple  that  of 
a  body  simply  falling  through  infinite  space.  That 
would  travel  at  the  rate  of  six  or  seven  miles  per 
second,  while  aerolites  have  a  planetary  velocity, 
some  of  them  even  overtaking  the  earth  in  its 
course.  One  of  the  remarkable  meteorolites  men 
tion  in  history  fell  467  B.C.  It  was  still  extant  in 
Pliny's  time,  and  he  mentions  that  it  was  as  large 
as  a  wagon.  In  passing  through  our  atmosphere, 
meteorolites  undergo  some  change,  as  they  always 
take  fire  in  the  upper  regions,  and  arrive  at  the 
ground  quite  hot.  There  are  two  kinds,  the  me 
tallic  and  stony  aerolite. 

WE  take  it  back  in  its  totality.  The  death  was 
not  a  phenomenal  one.  The  aerolite  did  not  come 
hurtling  from  the  infinite  depths  of  space.  It  did 
not  tear  a  ragged  opening  through  the  roof  of  Mr. 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS.         343 

Grover's  house,  nor  did  it  crash  through  his  breast 
and  then  pass  through  the  bed,  the  floor,  and  so 
on  into  the  earth,  five  feet.  Mr.  Grover's  daugh 
ter  and  her  husband  were  not  away  from  home  at 
the  time  of  the  accident,  and  they  didn't  fail  to 
discover  his  death  until  the  next  morning.  He 
didn't  die.  He  didn't  get  hurt.  He  didn't  even 
get  frightened.  He  wasn't  there ;  he  isn't  any 
where  now.  Burn  him.  If  Mr.  Leonidas  Grover 
ever  should  come  into  existence,  and  get  killed  by 
an  aerolite,  he  will  have  to  get  some  one  else  to 
write  his  obituary.  It  is  a  nice  enough  thing  to 
moralize  over,  and  it  furnishes  great  scope  for  the 
play  of  sentimental  fancy,  but  we  despise  the  sub 
ject,  and  we  have  precious  little  faith  in  thunder- 
stones,  anyhow.  The  audacious  villain  who  in 
vented  the  canard  is  an  unmeasured  fraud  and  an 
infinite  liar.  Hell  gapes  for  him.  The  devil  beck 
ons  to  him  with  his  hands,  and  horns  and  tail. 
Eternal  cremation,  with  a  brimstone  accompani 
ment,  is  his  doom. 


A  BLIND  TRAMP. 

He  got  on  the  train  at  the  station  just  across  the 
river  from  Little  Rock.  He  was  shabbily  dressed,, 
apparently  not  more  than  twenty-five  years  old, 
and  totally  blind.  From  the  way  he  moved  it  was 
apparent  that  his  blindness  was  recent — the  recol 
lection  of  previous  sight  adding  to  the  crushing 
weight  of  his  misery.  He  was  gaunt,  ill-fed,  sick, 


344         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

and  the  expression  of  his  face  was  hard,  sullen, 
rebellious,  defiant,  just  as  if  he  were  ready  to 
curse  God  and  die.  The  conductor  came  in,  and 
studiously  ignored  him  in  collecting  fares.  (They 
have  the  "whitest"  set  of  employes  on  the  Iron 
Mountain  road  to  be  found  in  the  United  States.) 
For  hours  the  blind  man  sat  in  his  seat,  without  ap 
parently  moving  a  muscle  or  limb,  brooding  over 
the  hard  fate  which  enables  some  to  lap  their  souls 
in  the  elysium  of  plenty,  while  it  takes  from  an 
other  food,  clothing,  health,  and  what  is  more 
precious  than  all,  blessed  vision,  through  which  the 
thirsty  soul  drinks  in  the  beauty  of  nature.  The 
train  rolled,  and  rumbled,  and  jolted  ;  people  came 
and  went ;  children  chattered  and  women  laughed 
about  him  ;  but  through  all,  the  blind  man  main 
tained  his  imperturbable  stolidity.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  face.  Some  of  its  lines  were  suggestive 
of  vice.  But  the  mountain  weight  of  irreparable 
misfortune  overshadowed  everything  else.  I  looked 
•on  the  poor  creature  and  pitied  him.  The  repul 
sive  sight  had  for  me  a  horrible  fascination.  I 
looked  from  the  window  to  shut  out  the  sight,  but 
was  compelled  to  turn  again  and  again,  to  watch 
the  stone-like  figure  with  its  set  face  never  turning, 
apparently  oblivious  to  everything  except  its  own 
•ever-present  misery.  Finally,  I  remembered  some 
thing  I  should  not  have  forgotten.  I  took  a  buz 
zard  -from  my  pocket,  walked  over,  and  gently 
dropped  it  in  the  open  palm  of  a  very  dirty  hand, 
which  rested  idly  in  his  greasy  lap.  As  the  coin 
touched  him,  he  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung, 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS.         345 

but  in  the  same  moment,  recognizing  the  nature  of 
the  transaction,  closed  on  the  money  with  eager 
touch  and  conveyed  it  with  a  tremulous  motion  to 
his  vest  pocket.  There  is  a  contagion  of  good  ex 
ample  as  well  as  of  vice,  and  in  a  moment  others 
had  done  likewise,  until  the  dirty  vest  pocket 
bulged  with  its  wealth.  Through  all,  the  blind 
man  made  no  vocal  sign  of  gratitude,  but  two 
tears  gathered  in  his  sightless  eyes,  and  rolled 
down  his  swarthy,  smoke-dried  cheeks.  At  Wal 
nut  Ridge  a  gentleman  went  out  and  bought  him  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  some  sandwiches,  which  he  de 
voured  ravenously,  as  if  food  had  been  a  stranger 
to  him.  We  learned  that  he  had  been  living  with 
a  brother  in  Arkansas,  who  died,  and  he  had 
started  out  to  hunt  another  brother  who  lived  some 
where  in  Illinois. 


OF  COURSE. 

He  was  taken  completely  by  surprise.  He 
didn't  expect  anything  of  the  kind.  It  was  a 
gold-headed  cane.  He  choked  with  emotion  as 
he  gazed  upon  the  "testimonial."  As  Secretary 
of  the  Senate  he  had  done  the  least  work  and 
drawn  the  most  pay,  but  his  subordinates  were  so 
impressed  with  the  grace,  the  ability,  the  suaviter 
in  modo,  with  which  he  drew  his  pay,  that  they 
couldn't  help  testifying  their  profound  apprecia 
tion  of  his  good  qualities.  Some  occult  influence 
lurks  within  the  damp  and  musty  walls  of  that  old 


346         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

State  House,  and  it  always  makes  the  employes 
affectionately  generous  about  the  close  of  the  ses 
sion,  and  leaves  the  "recipient"  tearful  and  gush 
ing.  Session  after  session  it  is  always  the  same. 
The  secretary  is  never  moved  in  that  way.  He 
finds  it  more  blessed  to  receive  than  to  give.  His 
understrappers  may  be  affable,  and  faithful,  and 
genial,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  it  never  oc 
curs  to  him  to  give  them  a  gold  watch  each,  or  a 
carie,  or  a  barrel  of  flour.  Singular,  isn't  it? 
Wonder  why  the  old  thing  don't  work  that  way 
once  in  a  while,  by  way  of  a  change?  There  is 
some  great  principle  in  the  regular  recurrence  of 
this  testimonial  business  at  the  close  of  each  ses 
sion,  if  we  could  only  get  at  it. 


LIFE:  at  West  Baden  is  not  a  season  of  unalloyed 
delights.  It  has  its  drawbacks,  so  to  speak.  The 
chickens  are  cooked  in  the  highest  style  of  the  art, 
and  the  glistening  leaves  of  the  maple  trees,  freshly 
washed  by  the  rain,  relieve  the  tired  eye  with  their 
grateful  green.  Somehow  I  always  fancied  that 
the  shade  of  the  sugar  maple  was  cooler  than  that 
cast  by  any  other  tree.  But  the  insect  pests  are  at 
times  almost  intolerable.  There  is  the  mosquito. 
He  don't  amount  to  much.  We  know  all  his  ways. 
He  does  not  trouble  at  night,  but  when  we  go  into 
the  leafy  covert  in  pursuit  of  berries  he  gets  in  his 
work.  Going  into  the  leafy  covert,  however,  is  in 
dulged  in  but  sparingly  by  the  veterans.  As  a 
general  thing  a  fellow  goes  into  the  leafy  covert 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS.         347 

the  day  after  his  arrival.  Then  he  waits  for  some 
other  fellow  to  go.  If  you  should  ask  me  why  this 
apparent  want  of  confidence'  in  the  leafy  covert,  I 
should  answer,  I  should  tell  you — CHIGGERS.  You 
don't  know  what  a  chigger  is,  O  city-bred  reader? 
God  keep  you  in  ignorance.  The  chigger  is  an 
infinitesimal  tick  that  bites  and  burrows  in  the 
flesh.  It  is  almost  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  and 
yet  when  you  are  bitten  the  first  impression  is  that 
a  hornet  has  crawled  up  the  leg  of  your  trowsers. 
One  sting  satisfies  the  most  malevolent  hornet,  and 
with  the  aid  of  ammonia  the  pain  is  soon  gone,  and 
the  swelling  abates.  With  the  chigger  it  is  differ 
ent.  When  you  go  to  bed  at  night  every  chigger 
that  has  effected  a  lodgment  opens  up  in  a  fresh 
series  of  bites,  each  one  of  them  equivalent  to  that 
of  a  large  pismire,  and  there  is  no  let  up  till  you 
kill  the  critter  by  scratching  or  greasing  with  lard, 
coal  oil  or  some  other  unguent.  Then  he  festers 
in  his  burrow  and  is  sloughed  out.  The  best  way 
is  to  grease  on  suspicion  every  time  you  go  into 
the  woods.  The  same  power  that  made  the  chig 
ger  doubtless  sat  the  elephant  on  his  four  legs,  and 
started  him  out  in  life  with  his  baggage  train  in- 
front,  in  imitation  of  the  tactics  of  that  valiant 
Massachusetts  warrior,  Gen.  Nathaniel  P.  Banks, 
when  he  charged  Dick  Taylor's  intrenchments  at 
Mansfield.  On  general  principles,  I'd  rather  be  an 
elephant  than  a  chigger.  There's  more  style 
about  him.  But  if  I  had  a  spite  against  a  fellow- 
creature,  and  could  overcome  my  natural  kindness 
of  heart  long  enough  to  make  it  warm  for  him,  I'd 


348         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

rather  be  a  chigger.  If  Job  had  been  well  chig- 
gered  early  in  his  affliction,  there  would  have  been 
a  different  story  to  tell  of  that  bilious  man  of  God. 
(Bilious  comes  from  bile,  O  captious  critic,  and  I 
am  sure  Job  was  covered  with  biles,  from  head  to 
foot.) 

But  the  Black  Gnat  is  the  triumph  of  nature  when 
it  comes  to  pests.  I  have  such  a  respect  for  this 
little  scoundrel's  power  of  annoyance  that  I  spell 
him  with  a  capital  G.  He  is  small — a  mere  filmy 
dot,  floating  in  the  air  like  a  speck  of  dust,  and  only 
distinguishable  from  the  inanimate  motes  by  his 
zigzag  motion  in  flying.  But  he  bites  with  a  ter 
rible  bite.  It  hurts  worse  than  that  of  a  gallinip- 
per,  and  raises  a  round  red  spot,  visible  for  days 
after.  The  black  gnat  pursues  you  everywhere. 
Making  no  noise,  the  first  intimation  of  his  attack 
is  the  sharp,  stinging  pain  of  his  bite.  Turning 
your  hand,  under-side  up,  you  see  a  small  black 
speck,  and  if  he  has  been  sufficiently  absorbed  in 
his  breakfast  to  forget  his  usual  caution,  you  smash 
him  with  a  blow  heavy  enough  to  kill  a  rabbit.  In 
deed,  you  regret  that  he  is  not  as  big  as  a  bumble 
bee,  so  that  you  could  have  that  much  more  re 
venge. 


YOUNG  men  don't  take  kindly  to  babies  as  a  gen 
eral  thing.  A  man  must  be  forty  at  least  to  appre 
ciate  them.  It  is  natural  that  a  fellow  who  is 
nearing  the  other  end  should  begin  to  take  an 
interest  in  those  who  are  just  starting.  Conse- 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS.  349 

quently  we  find  that  the  young  buck,  who  is  all 
cuff,  collar,  hair  and  necktie,  views  with  horror 
the  red,  squirming,  colicky  thing  which  is  to  be 
come  a  man  or  a  woman,  as  the  case  may  be,  if  its 
luck  carries  it  through  the  "  second  summer,"  and 
the  gauntlet  of  mumps,  measles,  scarlatina,  and 
other  infantile  ailments.  To  his  barbaric  ear  there 
is  no  music  in  the  squawk  of  a  Tupperian  "well 
spring  of  pleasure,"  and  it  is  only  aiter  baby  be 
gins  to  "  take  notice  "  that  he  can  tolerate  it.  The 
subject  is,  however,  worthy  of  study  in  all  its 
stages  of  development,  from  its  first  wondering 
stare  at  surroundings,  all  the  way  up  through  the 
era  of  tumbling  off  the  back  porch,  to  boyhood, 
marbles  and  rubber  slings.  The  baby  is  always 
perverse,  always  trying  to  swallow  its  fist,  always 
reaching  for  things,  and  generally  moist.  They 
always  look  like  somebody.  Getting  baby  to  sleep 
is  the  principal  occupation  of  the  female  members 
of  the  household,  and  fighting  sleep  soon  comes  to 
be  the  life-work  of  the  baby.  So  many  subter 
fuges  and  confidence  games  are  resorted  to  that 
he  finally  comes  to  regard  sleep  as  a  "  game  "  that 
is  being  played  on  him,  and  on  the  principle  that 
it  is  generally  safe  to  decline  doing  what  your  op 
ponent  wants  you  to  do,  he  resolutely  cultivates 
wakefulness,  and  resents  all  the  inventions  of  the 
enemy,  from  the  soothing  lullaby  to  the  vibratory 
motion  of  the  cradle.  Nobody  knows  whether  a 
baby  would  ever  voluntarily  go  to  sleep  or  not. 
The  experiment  has  never  been  tried.  Probably 
he  regards  sleep  as  so  much  time  lost,  during 


35O         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

which  his  tyranny  is  in  abeyance,  and  he  resents 
the  various  artifices  by  which  he  is  swindled  out  of 
his  rights. 


WILLIAM  J.  MURTAGH,  proprietor  of  the  Na 
tional  Republican,  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  has 
been  held  "  pussonally  responsible"  by  a  "  puf- 
feck  gentleman"  of  one  of  the  "fust  families  of 
Kentucky,  sah,"  for  a  paragraph  which  reflected 
on  the  "  puffeck  gentleman's"  private  character. 
The  instrument  which  administered  justice  in  this 
instance  was  the  cowhide,  a  new  departure  for 
Kentucky  outraged  honor,  which  generally  avails 
itself  of  the  pistol  and  the  bowie-knife.  The  ac 
count  was  settled  immediately  in  front  of  brother 
Murtagh's  office,  a  most  conspicuous  place.  There 
were  the  usual  and  more  than  the  usual  number  of 
innocent  spectators  to  see  it  through,  and  the  fur 
flew  in  most  extraordinary  style.  Mr.  Murtagh  is 
not  the  chap  to  take  any  extra  steps,  but  on  this 
occasion  he  performed  a  regular  Castanet  dance, 
never  missing  a  step,  and  keeping  time  to  the  mu 
sic  of  the  cowhide  in  the  most  practiced  manner. 
Mr.  James  Wheatley,  the  outraged  scion  of  Ken 
tucky,  handled  the  ready  cowhide  in  the  most 
skillful  style,  and  was  cheered  on  in  the  glorious 
work  of  vindicating  his  moral  character  by  a  hun 
dred  sympathetic  voices.  A  Kentucky  gentleman 
abhors  any  vulgar  or  unseemly  haste.  Mr.  Wheat- 
ley  took  his  time,  and  kept  the  entertainment  up 
thirty-three  minutes  and  four  seconds. exactly,  or 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS.  351 

until  the  editorial  legs  refused  to  execute  the  will 
of  Wheatley.  Every  spectator  declared  he  never 
saw  such  beautiful  dancing  since  the  days  of  the 
agile  Elssler.  Mr.  Wheatley 's  wounded  "  'onah, 
sah,"  was  completely  healed  when  he  released  the 
non-resistant  Murtagh,  who  will  hereafter  make 
diligent  inquiry  into  the  pedigree  of  anyone  whose 
biography  he  expects  to  publish  in  the  Republican. 
He  will  take  a  cowhiding  every  once  in  a  while, 
with  meekness  and  lowliness  of  spirit,  if  he  can 
have  the  tax-list  of  the  District  of  Columbia  to 
sustain  his  spirit. 


THE  astronomical  and  meteorological  editor  of 
the  Journal  has  been  unusually  brilliant  this  week. 
On  Wednesday  he  announced  that  "the  white 
moonlight  was  very  bright  last  night."  In  the 
same  paper  he  said  a  genteel  and  quite  eye- 
watering  thing  about  the  dying  month.  It  was 
this  : 

"The  month  of  April  will  close  her  account  with 
nature  to-day,  and  turn  her  toes  up  to  the  roots  of 
the  daisies.  She  has  made  a  good  record,  and 
leaves  the  earth  better  and  more  beautiful  for  hav 
ing  lived." 

Now  that  is  what  we  call  the  neat  and  gallant 
thing  to  say  about  a  month  that  has  wept,  and 
frowned,  and  raged,  and  thundered,  and  whooped 
around,  as  April  has  done.  There  is  no  vulgar 
slang  in  that  touching  obituary.  The  flowers  of 
rhetoric  fairly  smother  it.  A  reporter  who  was 


35 2         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

not  in  love  with  nature,  and  had  not  a  kind  word 
for  every  month  in  the  year,  would  have  coarsely 
said  "April  peters  out  to-day,"  or  "The  old  gal, 
April,  passes  in  her  checks  to-night,  drat  her." 
There  would  have  been  no  tender  reference  to  the 
defunct  lady's  toes  and  the  roots  of  the  poetic 
daisies  ;  no  generous  mention  of  her  "good  record," 
which  is  not  strictly  truthful,  but  was  very  sweet 
in  the  meteorological  editor,  all  the  same.  No, 
there  would  have  been  nothing  said  of  April  that 
would  bring  tears  to  human  eyes,  as  the  weather 
editor's  paragraph  does.  When  the  young  man 
wants  a  situation — well,  we  would  scorn  to  hold 
out  any  inducements  that  would  take  a  star  from 
the  galaxy  of  a  cotemporary,  but  we  should  like  to 
have  something  touching  and  tender  like  that  said 
in  THE  HERALD  about  every  day  in  the  year,  with 
an  occasional  pretty  speech  about  the  moon  thrown 
in. 


SOMETHING  ought  to  be  done  with  the  interroga 
tion  point.  It  has  become,  if  possible,  more  of  a 
vagabond  than  the  comma,  and  more  of  a  nuisance 
than  the  apostrophe.  As  a  medium  for  the  expres 
sion  of  sarcasm  the  interrogation  point  has  lost  its 
force.  Used  for  that  purpose,  in  parenthesis,  it 
expresses  but  one  thing,  and  that  is  the  ignorance 
of  the  writer.  A  man  of  little  learning  and  much 
spleen  makes  use  of  the  degraded  point  in  this 
style  on  all  occasions.  He  says,  "  the  gentlemanly 
(?)  editor  of  the  War  Whoop,"  or  "the  honor- 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS.  353 

able  (?)  M.  C.,"  and  he  fancies  he  has  broken 
down  his  enemy  with  the  most  withering  sarcasm. 
He  can't  manipulate  words  to  help  him  out,  but  he 
can  depend  on  the  interrogation  point.  Inside  the 
parentheses  it  always  looks  fresh  and  original  to 
him.  He  knows  he  didn't  invent  it,  but  he  thinks 
the  public  will  believe  he  did.  It  is  regarded  as  a 
perfect  battering  ram  by  unsophisticated  writers. 
Hurled  at  an  enemy,  he  is  sure  to  tremble  under 
the  pressure,  they  imagine.  It  is  the  plummet  that 
marks  a  writer's  ability  and  indexes  his  temper.  It 
proves  the  one  shallow  and  the  other  bad.  Come 
to  think  of  it,  the  interrogation  point  is  always 
used  en  parenthesis,  when  there  is  bad  blood  be 
tween  the  combatants.  It  is  never  found  in  a  tol 
erant,  reasonable,  sensible,  printed  controversy,  in 
its  sarcastic  capacity.  If  it  would  only  confine 
itself  to  its  legitimate  office,  and  keep  out  of  such 
questionable  company  as  the  parenthesis  family,  it 
would  hold  a  position  as  one  of  the  best  points  in 
our  language.  It  should  eschew  the  sarcastic.  It 
is  a  role  it  does  not  succeed  in,  and  it  should  aban 
don  it.  Any  writer  who  can  not  express  sarcasm 
without  the  interrogation  point  had  better  die  with 
all  his  sarcasm  in  him. 

; 

INDIANS  never  kiss  their  wives. — Exchange. 
Neither  do  they  kiss  each  other's  wives,  and  in 
that  they  differ  from  the  proud  Caucasian. 

23 


354         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

ST.  Vrrus  let  himself  loose  in  the  Sentinel  of 
Sunday  last.  He  announced,  in  his  usual  jerky 
rhetoric,  that  the  people  are  in  revolt — that  some 
body  has  opened  the  "caverns  of  want,"  and  un 
chained  "the  wild  beasts  of  desolation,"  thus 
giving  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  an  opportunity  to 
"stalk"  at  midnight,  and  point  with  "  fleshless 
fingers"  at  the  towering  elevators  and  glutted 
markets,  while  they  fondle  the  brindle  wolf  which 
sits  and  howls  at  the  grave's  mouth.  "The  peo 
ple" — that  is  such  of  the  people  as  are  not  in  re 
volt — would  like  to  know  why  the  rest  of  "the 
people  "  are  in  revolt,  but  Nauvoo  declines  to  tell 
them.  He  asks  them  if  they  would  slake  their 
raging  curiosity,  to  go  out  on  the  streets  and  inter 
rogate  the  flinty  stones,  which,  hard-hearted  as 
they  are  admitted  to  be,  "  have  more  feeling  than 
Sherman  or  Morton."  If  the  stones  fail  to  re 
spond,  then  the  inquisitive  reader  is  invited  to 
"  enter  the  damp  and  dismal  shaft  of  the  mine, 
where  the  deadly  gases  generate,  and  pursue  his 
investigations.  If  the  deadly  gases  don't  respond, 
the  next  alternative  is  to  "Go  to  old  ocean's 
depths  ;  enter  her  dark  and  slimy  caverns,  above 
whom  the  white-capped  waves  sing  requiems  of 
wrecks,  and  horrid,  strangling  deaths ;  ask  the 
sparkling  diamonds  clinging  to  the  rocks  o'erhead, 
or  the  grinning  skulls  beneath  your  feet."  Much  as 
we  would  like  to  know  why  "the  people"  are  in 
revolt,  the  slimy  caverns,  "above  whom"  etc., 
are  too  forbidding.  It  would  be  easy  enough  to 
interrogate  the  diamonds  and  the  grinning  skulls,. 


SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS.         355 

if  they  were  trotted  out,  but  the  slimy  caverns  of 
"old  ocean" — infinitely  slimier  than  the  caverns 
of  young  ocean — repel.  We  will  have  to  wait. 
Perhaps  the  people  themselves  will  tell  us  why 
they  are  in  revolt,  without  waiting  for  the  stones, 
and  the  deadly  gases,  or  the  slimy  caverns,  or  the 
grinning  skulls  to  unfold  the  tale. 


"THERE'S  honor  for  you!"  Red  worms  are 
writhing  in  the  flesh  of  a  New  Orleans  editor  who, 
one  short  week  ago,  was  in  average  health,  with 
unimpaired  capacity  for  the  assimilation  of  his 
matutinal  cocktail.  Byerly  was  his  name,  and 
Governor  Warmoth  was  his  bane.  A  card  pub 
lished  by  Warmoth  had  touched  this  editor  in  his 
"honor,"  and  that  sensitive  organ — it  is  an  organ 
In  the  South — clamored  for  satisfaction.  Whack 
went  the  bludgeon  over  Warmoth's  head,  and  in 
and  out  of  the  editorial  abdomen  slipped  the  ready 
knife  six  times.  HOWT  much  better  would  it  have 
been  for  these  men  to  have  abused  each  other  like 
pickpockets  in  the  papers,  as  we  do  at  the  North, 
and  take  their  drinks  together  in  private. 


YES,  he  is  dead.  He  died  of  delight  at  this  de 
licious  spring  weather.  He  was  an  estimable  old 
gentleman,  but  an  awful  liar — a  bigger  liar  than 
the  fellow  who  humped  himself  up  in  a  thunder 
storm  and  took  two  or  three  "  terrible  claps."  He 


356         SKETCHES  AND  PARAGRAPHS. 

was  aged.  He  could  thread  a  needle  at  arm's 
length,  and  hold  an  umbrella  on  a  March  day. 
He  was  in  the  ark  with  Noah.  "Yes,  sir,"  said 
he,  "after  Pharoah  came  home  from  battle,  I  used 
to  take  his  rig  and  drive  all  over  town.  I  was 
Pharoah's  private  hostler.  Know  George  Wash 
ington?  Well,  I  should  think  I  did  know  him. 
\Ve  were  'pards,'  and  as  for  that  hatchet  business 
—why,  I  turned  the  grindstone  to  sharpen  it." 


"  MY  DEAR  PITKIN"  stands  an  extraordinarily 
good  chance  of  being  bounced.  Twelve  years 
ago  "My  Dear  Pitkin"  was  an  immature  youth, 
veally,  blonde,  and  pimply,  with  a  weakness  for 
drab  pantaloons  strapped  tightly  under  patent 
leather  boots,  white  waistcoat  and  loud  necktie. 
He  wrote  erotic  poems  of  more  than  ordinary 
vigor,  carried  a  slender  rattan  cane,  terminating  in 
a  human  leg  in  ivory,  and  was  considered  a  good 
fellow,  though  not  at  all  "stalwart."  If  he  had 
improved  his  opportunities  as  well  as  Warmouth 
did,  he  could  afford  to  be  "bounced,"  and  then 
quit  the  game  ahead. 


PUTTY  is  the  best  material  out  of  which  to  make 
a  governor.  It  is  soft,  pliable,  oily.  A  putty  man 
will  do  nothing  to  conflict  with  the  ger-reat  and 
gel-lorious  per-rinciples  of  the  Democratic  party, 
said  principles  being  that  the  people  must  rule.  If  it 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS.  357 

happens  that  the  people  disagree,  and  one  portion 
takes  possession  of  property  belonging  to  the 
others,  then  the  noble  man  of  putty  stands  back, 
and  disinterestedly  watches  the  fight.  His  soul 
shrinks  from  the  thought  of  bloodshed.  Besides, 
it  might  lose  him  a  few  votes,  when  he  comes  to 
run  for  the  presidency,  if  he  were  to  take  sides 
with  "capital"  against  "labor." 


COMING  down  Mississippi  street  the  other  morn 
ing,  we  overtook  a  little  bantam  rooster,  two  sizes 
larger  than  a  mocking-bird,  which  had  picked  up 
two  great  Bramah  hens,  but  little  smaller  than 
ostriches,  and  was  doing  the  genteel  thing  by 
them.  The  little  cock  is  the  children's  pet  in  a 
neighboring  family,  but  the  hens  were  evidently 
strangers,  refugees,  perhaps,  from  some  grocer's 
coop.  There  was  something  very  human  in  the 
little  bantam's  strut,  and  the  fussy  airs  of  protect 
orship  that  he  assumed ;  but  the  subservience  of 
the  great  lubberly  hens  to  the  feathered  midget 
was  absolutely  absurd. 


SITTING  BULL'S  band  has  been  cutting  up  in 
Canada.  Unless  he  operates  with  great  caution 
he  will  learn  the  difference  between  the  British 
lion  and  the  national  fowl  of  this  country,  which  is 
rapidly  being  hybridized  into  "an  ineffable  buz 
zard." 


.358 


SKETCHES    AND    PARAGRAPHS. 


Miss  VICKSEN  is  one  of  those  curiously-consti- 
stituted  females  who  "can't  bear  children,"  and 
who  are  always  informing  people  of  the  fact.  She 
imparted  this  valuable  information  to  a  mixed  com 
pany,  of  whom  Bluejazy,  the  brute,  happened  to  be 
one,  the  other  evening.  "  How  do  you  know  you 
can't?"  said  Blue.  In  about  two  minutes,  from 
the  snapping  of  Miss  Vicksen's  black  eyes,  it  be 
came  apparent  that  she  had  seen  the  point,  and 
Bluejazy  remembered  an  engagement  down  town. 


EDITORS  are  entirely  too  free  with  the  brand. 
They  "  brand"  each  other  as  liars  on  the  slightest 
provocation.  It  is  bad  enough  to  "denounce"  a 
fellow.  Branding  is  too  cruel.  There  is  the  dou- 
ble-turreted  old  termagant  of  the  Sentinel,  who  has 
branded  the  Journal  half  a  dozen  times  within  the 
past  fortnight.  He  seems  to  like  to  affix  the  brand. 
He  feels  a  little  brandy  every  day. 


CAN  NOT  the  Journal  give  us  an  occasional  para 
graph  about  its  "course?  "  No  paper  that  amounts 
to  anything  can  afford  to  be  without  a  "course." 
But  when  a  paper  is  always  talking  about  its 
"course"  there  are  grounds  for  suspicion  that  it 
don't  amount  to  much.  The  condor,  as  it  flies,  has 
no  need  to  call  attention  to  its  "course."  The 
peewee  has. 


